


Happenstantial Accidents

by IAmAWorkInProgress



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Violence, Death, F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-11-06 05:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17933354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmAWorkInProgress/pseuds/IAmAWorkInProgress
Summary: Da'Evune, or Dune for short, was already just floating through a world that she barely understood. With a Dalish clan far more aware of the truth than most and a father who was not quite what he seemed she had enough on her plate; prior to being tasked with mending a hole in the sky, trying to remember why she was even at the Conclave, dogging a relatively nosy Seeker and finding out the effects of dragon's blood on her body. Will Dune be able to make it to the end of her journey without losing herself along the way? Or has her inner tyrant already rooted itself far too deep?





	1. Prologue

Nothing has been particularly remarkable about Haven, not since Warden Mahariel eliminated the dragon cult that had squatted there during the Fifth Blight. Yes, Haven was a relatively insignificant town, not standing out among the other small hamlets that dotted Ferelden's countryside. Very few people lived in such a place year round and those who did had been hardened by the Frostback's harsh conditions. Six months out of the year the sky poured buckets of freezing rain on the villagers and in the remaining time, the people had to wade through waist-deep snow. The only refuge from such miserable weather was the Singing Maiden, a tavern, which was usually populated in the morning when most broke their fast and in the evening as the townsfolk relaxed and attempted to forget about the day's woes.

Though the village was never the reason why people visited Haven, even during the time of the Disciples of Andraste's occupation. For Haven, itself was not particularly interesting but did sit before the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the final resting place of Our Lady Redeemer. Pilgrims have occasionally come up the mountain pass while on the way to see the temple. Frozen and ancient the building was truly an architectural marvel. Very few actually stayed to fully research it and those who did usually found themselves becoming permanent residences. The first team of scholars, following in the footsteps of brother Genitivi, had not intended to remain for longer than a week or two. Next, they knew they were re-purposing the abandoned cabins that had stood guard for centuries. When supplies began running low a few branched off to scour the wilderness eventually taking up the task of feeding the ever-growing village. The impromptu villagers soon began placing bets in regards to whether or not a new arrival would choose to stay.

 

\---

 

9:41 Dragon was a different story. Those who had come to know Haven as home were all on edge. Twitchy Mages and zealous Templars were camped just beyond the village borders awaiting the arrival of the Divine's Left and Right Hands. The Most Holy herself was already snugly succoured within in the temple preparing for the peace talks. Her chamber free of ice and her wine imported from Antiva. The Mage sent to keep an eye out on Grand Enchanter Fiona's behalf was perusing the temple's library. The Templar representative was in the process of looking for their sibling while a particularly chatty dwarf talked their ear off. A Tal-Voshoth mercenary was leaning against a door frame keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. They did not notice a small elf slip past, though they should not feel ashamed as none of the Chantry guards spotted the Dalish warrior either. Nor did they notice the Grey Wardens sneaking about or the taste of ancient and evil magic permeating the air; and only one heard the Divine scream.

 

\---

 

It was a long journey from Kirkwall to Haven. They travelled by ship for part of it and horseback during the rest. Quite the unlikely group was trudging through the snowy pass. Able to feel the gaze of two warring parties without seeing either of them. A Nightingale was hidden under the sun, riding ahead of the few men helping to escort the silver-tongued prisoner. The Seneschal's little birds occasionally darting to their mother's side with a whispered message of the location of someone important or a particularly aggressive individual. The Truth Seeker sat atop a massive plated stead, groomed and trained for war. Her armour was ceremonial and bright on purpose as the few watching the pass with any ability to notice the former Bard found their eyes immediately drawn to the sharp-featured Valkyrie. Hidden from the view of most, but still within the line of sight of the dragon slayer, hurriedly scratching down notes was a Storyteller. 

He felt something before the other's saw or heard anything. Call it a writer's intuition. He closed his book and placed it in his pack. The Head of House Tethras had felt such a feeling once before and if his red streaked friend's tale was anything to go by, shit was about to get weird.

 

\---

 

The explosion was so violent that people of Denerim would later gossip about experiencing the aftershock. A group of rowdy Tal-Vosoth packed up quickly and made their way to a planned escape route before the Templars or Mages could register what was going on. They would morn on the road. A mercenary band flinched at the noise but were quick to leave as well. The Templars scattered to the west, the Mages to the east. A pair of Dalish elves ducked into the forest as a lone wolf sat atop a ridge and cocked his head to the side while watching reality tear itself apart. The sky was falling and the ancient temple was now the final resting place of more than just the Maker's bride.


	2. In the Beginning, There Was Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Da'Evune wakes in an unfamiliar environment, Leliana worries and Cassandra seethes.

Da'Evune was not particularly forgetful. Sure she might occasionally neglect a step when tanning a hide and maybe she missed placed her trail marks every so often, but for the most part, she had a decent memory. So imagine her confusion when she came back to consciousness without being able to recall when she last lost it.

The cool stone ground beneath her face was unfamiliar and damp. As fear began to quickly spread throughout her body the small elf willed herself to remain relaxed, fighting against all of her instincts to tense up as she sunk back against the floor. She slowed her breathing in order to feign sleep before taking stock of her surroundings. By focusing on sounds she was able to pick out others. From what she could tell, four guards were watching her from different points throughout her prison.

One of the guards coughed and it took everything in her power not to jump. Straining her hearing to pick up on every little detail was not exactly helping to keep calm. Though, the need for more information before alerting those in the room of her return to the waking world kept Da'Evune patient. The guards shifted causing steal and leather armour to creak. Every once in a while one would sniff or grunt, but other than that no change. She knew that she wasn't going to get anywhere if she continued her facade. She needed to move without letting them know just how lucid she was. Before she could fully formulate her play Da'Evune's hand flared with white-hot pain causing her to let out a muffled groan. She had made enough noise to alert the guards, three came forward, unsheathing their blades while one made his way to the door. Slowly, in order to keep up her ruse, she managed to get herself into a hunched sitting position. Making sure to stare through the guards around her and opening her mouth to breath shallow panting breaths she waited for them to become more at ease with her fake sickly presence. Though to her surprise, none of them did. Either Da'Evune was nowhere near as good of a performer as she thought or these guards were really continuing to act with the utmost care around a barely mobile 4'9" elven woman. She was trying to subtly inspect them without drawing their attention any more than she already had. A combination of the Chantry logo and that of the Templar order was stamped across their chests. Her blood ran cold and her tongue became thick and heavy in her mouth. She'd seen those markings before on old rotted corpses scattered and lost to time, the lingering stains of the Second Exalted March. Da'Evune forced herself to keep from shaking, that was at least until her ears twitched.

Footsteps fast and purposeful were heading towards her cell door. The sound echoed off of stone as what she could only assume was her judge, jury and executioner neared. She had to come up with a plan, something anything. She slowly shifted from her ass to her knees, sweating with the effort of keeping her movements lethargic. Da'Evune was no coward, she would face her namesake one last time before joining her ancestors in the afterlife and creators so help her, if she was leaving her mortal coil behind she'd be taking as many with her as possible. With a few quick prayers to Falon'Din and Elgar'Nan, she steeled her resolve and waited.

 

\---

 

A shadow inspected a towering statue standing vigil over the tattered village. A chip had joined the old one on the opposite side of the pillar's face early on in the aftermath of the Conclave. Though a slight nick was nothing to worry about compared to the semi-disembowelment some of the soldiers had received from the claws of shades, the burns of molten begins of wrath or the battle fatigue covering the minds of once valiant men thanks to the cries of unrelenting horrors. The Mages and Healers had enough on their plates already and did not need the Divine's Right Hand demanding someone patch up a superficial cut. Leliana continued to watch as Cassandra scowled at the Breach. No, she was no longer the Divine's anything, neither of them were. The woman was dead and gone and in the aftermath demons were oozing onto the material plane. Falling from the sky like grotesque shooting stars. Though the only wishes to be granted on that day would be of destruction and despair.

“Casandra,” the shadow called from behind the statue. The warrior nodded in acknowledgement before returning her full attention to the Breech.

"Leliana," the Sister could tell that the woman who stood before her was not looking forward to the oncoming conversation. Especially since their last had ended in an argument, one in which the Seeker had lost. Though the warrior was not ashamed to admit that, the shadow's counterpoint was ironclad. Why ask Cullen, a man known for a cruel view towards Mages, to lead the future Inquisition's forces when there were a million other options, like perhaps Aveline Vallen. The former bard knew that her coworker and friend was still licking her wounds, but their disagreement was in the past and not why she had come. The darkness beneath Cassandra's eyes was growing as the days went on and she had yet to see the Seeker retire since the sky split open.

“Have you rested?” She asked, fully knowing the answer. A sigh escaped the former Right Hand's lips.

“Leliana,” the repeated name came out as a pleaded wine, the Sister found herself smirking at the childish sound.

"Oh? I'm sorry Cassandra I was not aware that you were immune to the effects of exhaustion." Another sigh, "is it dragon blood? I bet it's the dragon blood." She teased.

“You and I both know that I have no dragon's blood flowing through my veins.”

“Hmm? Do I know that? If not dragon's blood then what is allowing you to go so long without rest and not become a liability.”

“Leliana...”

“Do not Leliana me Seeker,” Cassandra flinched and it was the Sister's turn to sigh. “I am not here to fight. I am simply worried.”

“There is no need to worry I am fi...” the taller woman's reply was cut short as her world was flipped upside down, Leliana had swept the Seeker's legs so suddenly that she had no chance to even attempt to break her fall.

“We both know that if you were at your best you would not be on the ground gasping like a fish out of water, non?” Cassandra said nothing still unable to respond. Leliana's playful smirk receded as she lowered herself down next to the Seeker, she clutched her knees to her chest and picked up a little bit of snow before sprinkling it onto the taller woman's face. The warrior closed her eyes as the former Bard was reminded of simpler times spent chasing after an energetic Dalish woman and her boy King brother.

“What about the prisoner? What if she wakes and I am not here to aide in her interrogation?”

“Solas has said it will take some time for her to regain consciousness.”

“What of the Breach? It continues to expand.”

"And it will continue to do so regardless of whether or not you push yourself." Leliana Sighed and rubbed her face, "I just... merde, we lost Justinia Cassandra. The world has gone years without it's Champion and I would give up everything just to know if ma colombe was still alive. Please, Cass, I cannot lose you too."

"Lel..." the Seeker began, listening to her friend who had been playing the game for the past few days and refusing to morn. Laying there on the cold ground with an emotionally repressed Bard dropping snow onto her face also helped her realize something that she had been denying herself for days. Cassandra Pentaghast, Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of not one but two Divines and former Seeker of Truth was exhausted. "I... you will not lose me." She paused when she received no response, "Uhg fine," the fallen warrior huffed before sitting up and resting one arm over her knee. "But you have to promise to wake me if anything happens." Leliana cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips, before offering a hand to the Seeker.

"Deal." The two women shook before getting back to their feet, Cassandra rolled her eyes as Leliana brushed some white fluff from her armoured shoulder and straightened out her cloak before gently bating the Sister's hands away with a huff.

"You are a Spymaster, not a mother hen."

"Aw ma petit chou, I will stop mothering when you start caring for yourself." The Seeker rolled her eyes, before turning on her heel and marching towards her cabin a light blush dusting her cheeks. Leliana chuckled once more before donning her emotionless mask and slipping back into the shadows.

 

\---

 

The Seeker was used to how skittish others were around her, after all, she was tall for a human and had a resting expression that often deterred the seediest of would-be attackers. Usually, she kept in mind the effect that her presence tended to have, but with the situation as dire as it was she was not watching her temper. When a loud rapid succession of knocks awoke Cassandra from a dead sleep after her head had hit the pillow only a few candle marks prior. She leapt from the bed and ripped open the door with her teeth bared and muscles clenched. A small elven scout stood before her. He went pale, eyes widening as his ears drooped back.

"What is it?" She asked not hiding her barely contained rage from her tone. The scout quickly explained that the prisoner had returned to consciousnesses before he made a hasty retreat away from the angry dragon. Cassandra needed no more encouragement as she rushed back into her cabin, the rage within her ebbing and flowing as it found a new target. The Seeker scowled as she threw on her armour and stalked across camp back straight and eyes narrowed. She met Sister Nightingale at the entrance of the Chantry and lead the other woman to the ancient cells. Her steps landing with purpose as she descended into the damp murky darkness of the dungeons, the smaller of the two women quickly falling behind as she took a moment to question her departing scouts in coded whispers. The second the Seeker entered the room she directed the soldiers to file out, Leliana silently slipping in past them just as the last cleared the door. Cassandra began a familiar song and dance as the dragon's fire was held just beneath the surface of her skin. Her eyes quickly shifted to the prisoner kneeling before her as she took in every detail. The woman was Dalish, that much she knew, she was sporting miss matching furs, leathers and roughly sown hide boots. A hastily put together set of winter gear. Shaggy black hair covered most of the elf's features though Cassandra was still able to make out dark skin and some of the small woman's markings. The light blue tattoos covering her face, vanishing beneath a thick scarf wrapped around her throat, were thin blue and branch like. The largest ears she has ever seen flicked up from beneath the black mane as the Seeker approached.

Cassandra did not get to ask her first question. Leliana let out a warning shout and before the Seeker could react the elf who appeared dazed and subdued moments prior had launched herself at the taller woman. Heavy wooden cuffs slammed into her nose, she felt the cartilage break beneath the force of the blow and lost her footing as the elf tried to spring past. Cassandra was not able to grab the smaller woman but she did swing out her elbow catching her attacker's face and breaking something as well. The elf stumbled back which gave the former Bard just enough time to slip behind the surprisingly lucid prisoner. Cassandra's hand went to her own face as Leliana's grabbed the elf's newly freed and bloody wrist before pinning her arm behind her back and slamming the much smaller woman into a nearby wall. If the Dragon was angry before, now she was furious. She grabbed a fist full of messy raven coloured hair and ripped the Fade walker's head around.

"Give me one reason why we shouldn't kill you!" The Seeker demanded, spittle splashing onto the pinned woman.

"Fuck you!" Came the just as aggressive if somewhat raspy reply the elf's dark features twisted into a snarl blue markings and red blood oozing from her nose making her look all the more dangerous. An enraged Dragon stared down at a homicidal Lioness, as a lone Nightingale played mediator and tried to keep the two from killing each other. Leliana shouldered Cassandra away just as the taller woman lifted her fist to strike.

"We need her Cassandra and you attacking is not going to get us anywhere." The Seeker huffed but backed off briefly as she tried to regain control of her anger. She could feel the elven woman's distrusting gaze even though the hair hanging in front of her eyes made it hard to tell where exactly she was looking.

"Bind her again, Sister." Leliana raised a brow but did as her companion asked, removing the rest of the destroyed cuffs in the process and tying the smaller woman's arms behind her back. As she finished the green mark sparked and oozed magic, the elf grunted and flinched, but for the most part, remained quiet. The Seeker narrowed her eyes. "What is that?" The elf didn't respond and Cassandra lent in close, only for the elf to spit in her eye. The Dragon curled her lip in disgust. "Go to the forward camp Leliana, I will take her to the Rift." The Seneschal glanced over at the warrior with a slight frown on her face. "She will not talk to us, but she might if she knows what's at stake."

"I ain't gonna go nowhere with yeah!" The elven woman said before renewing her struggle against the former Bard's bindings. Leliana shook her head and let out a sigh.

"I think you may be right." The hooded woman handed off her charge before leaving the room without glancing back, she sent a silent prayer to the Maker that they wouldn't kill each other before the demons could get to them. The Seeker kept a tight hold on her prisoner, towering over the woman as she shoved her forwards out of the cell and up into the Chantry. The elf struggled once or twice and Cassandra had to grit her teeth as she held the woman still, she was a lot stronger than she looked. It didn't take long for them to arrive outside, the sky painted an eerie green as demons pored from its weeping wound. The elf's scowl left her face and large eyes widened as she gazed up at the tear in the Veil.

“We call it the Breach.”

 

\---

 

Da'Evune did not catch what her captor said after providing a name for the magical anomaly hanging above their heads, as her hand once again seared with pain. She let out a gasping wheeze as her marked hand was yanked towards the hole above by some unseen force. She stumbled forward onto her knees, clenching her eyes shut and baring her teeth when the pain passed her tongue darted out to wet chapped lips and she tasted her own crimson. The taller woman rushed over and knelt before her, the green glow of the unholy gaping maw above allowing for the elf to get a better look at her captor. Tall, sturdy and built for battle with sharp features and narrow eyes she was dealing with someone who could slay hundreds before breaking a sweat. The small elf begrudgingly respected that.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time." Da'Evune found her mind drifting to her clan at the warrior's words, she watched as another chunk of fade rock fell through from the other side and came hurtling towards the ground. Probably killing someone, probably taking them away from someone else. What if it had been Dhea'Blar or Asha'Dys or even little Samahl'Assan. She raised her gaze and locked eyes with the Seeker, ice met fire.

"If I can stop that thing from taking more lives I will."

"Then...?"

"I'll do whatever it takes."

 

\---

 

While leaving Haven Cassandra tried to explain to the elf that the people had already found her guilty and that there would be a trial, though she had a feeling that the other woman was not listening. Large ears were constantly twitching and rotating as the smaller of the two picked up on potential threats that her companion wasn't a where of. Though she regained the elf's attention when she sliced open her bonds and began leading her towards the forward camp. The elf was struck with agony as the Breech expanded once more and ended up stumbling into the Seeker, who caught the other woman easily and half guided/carried her towards the bridge as they waited for the pain to pass. The elven woman offered her a silent nod before they continued. The bridge exploded after a demonic meteoroid hurtled into it's centre when the duo was halfway across, they tumbled to the frozen river bed bellow along with some supplies and a corpse or two of Fade burnt soldiers. A shade ripped itself free from frozen shadows and began advancing on the pair as the prisoner tried to regain her barrings. With a single glance back and a few words of confidence, the Seeker charged forward to meet the melted cyclops in battle.

Shades were simple enough to down as they were mere echos and not fully formed creatures, grey flesh parted easily beneath the dragon's seasoned blade and yellow blood leaked onto clean snow. Chipped semi-ethereal claws bounced off her shield as she batted it's hands away before sinking her sword deep into the thing's neck. She was about to announce her victory before she felt it. Hot reeking breath barely brushing the side of her face. While the Seeker was busy a secondary shade had manifested and managed to slip relatively close. Shades were easy to kill, they were sluggish and telegraphed excessively before even the most minor of movements. Their danger came when they appeared in large groups as they were mostly silent and although it didn't take much to fell them, an unguarded strike from a shade still had the potential to be fatal. Cassandra turned, she knew that she wouldn't be able to get her shield up in time. She managed to face the monstrosity just as the melted flesh of its hooded visage split open and seeped thick yellow liquid, it's head snapped back at the wrong angle. The creature gurgled once before it de-materialized revealing her saviour standing behind it.

The prisoner was holding a relatively large piece of debris. The end was cracked, splintered and dripping with yellow blood. The woman herself letting out a relatively concerning hissing wheeze as she tossed the bored off to the side. Cassandra flicked her blade clean before looking down at the elf, the sound the other woman was making was truly unsettling.

"I thank you for your aid, were you injured?"

"No... Fenharel's ass..." The Seeker's brow forwarded as she took a step towards the elf. The other woman took a step back and bared her teeth. "I'm... fine this... is normal..." she wheezed out before looking back towards the bridge and frowning. Cassandra followed the other woman's gaze to the corpses littering the ground, a few were armed.

"Why not grab a weapon off of one of the fallen?" The elf let out a series of cracking hisses.

"I didn't think... that yeah'd be very appreciative... of me wielding a blade..."

"That may have been true, though given the circumstances it is probably for the best that you arm yourself." The elf glanced at the Seeker before wandering back to the destroyed bridge. She returned moments later with a comically large greatsword hefted over one shoulder. The prisoner must have noticed her bemused expression because she shot the Seeker a sneer, revealing blood stained teeth. Cassandra rolled her eyes before turning to search for a path that would lead them towards the forward camp.

“Hey lady!” The elf called and Cassandra glanced back, she was holding out a hand. “Dune,” Cassandra blinked at her, the shorter woman huffed. “Hello, Dune... it's nice to meet yeah... Thanks... for saving my life... By the way... my name is...?” The seeker rolled her eyes before continuing towards a potential way forward.

“Cassandra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo,
> 
> So I've already started changing some of what happens during the game. I plan to do that for the whole thing and I'm simply kicking off my edits with minor tweaks. 
> 
> Some of the dialogue I'll be keeping, though a lot will be added and most canon stuff heavily edited.
> 
> Thanks for giving me a chance,
> 
> IAAWIP
> 
> P.S (Language) 
> 
> French
> 
> Non - No  
> Merde - Shit  
> Ma Colombe - My Dove  
> Mon/Ma Petit Chou - My Sweat Heart
> 
> Elven
> 
> Da'Evune - Small/Little Moon  
> Dhea'Blar - Morning Flower  
> Asha'Dys - Woman of Fortune  
> Samahl'Assan - Laughing Arrow  
> Fenharel - The Dread Wolf


	3. The Wrath Of The Old Gods and What Came After - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dune fights, Cassandra argues, Solas is a prick and Varric just tries to keep things light as the newfound crew attempts to get to the Forward camp without killing each other.

Dune had proven herself of decent strength during their stint with the shades, but strength and skill were two different abilities, and watching the elf stumble around swinging her blade effortlessly though with a childlike accuracy more than proved that fact. Multiple times while slogging past demons Cassandra had to raise her shield to block the prisoner's blade, at least the woman had the mind to look somewhat sheepish before throwing herself back into the fray. One thing the Seeker noticed that Dune seemed relatively adept at was strategising, as the woman had the uncanny ability to know exactly where her pray was prior to even sending it a glance. It looked like she was predicting which way wisps would drift or shades would stumble and more than once she had leapt down onto a ghoul before the Seeker could identify it as either friend or foe. At first, Cassandra merely chalked it up to Dune attacking without asking questions, but the elf never miss-struck. She seemed to always know whether or not someone stumbling towards them in Inquisition armour was among the living.

The two were momentarily resting at the base of a rather steep incline that led up to a ridge. Dune's wheezing breath was coming out harsher than ever before and the Seeker found her gaze drifting towards the prisoner after each rattle. On one brief look over she caught sight of a slight gash in the elf's clothing, the fur slowly darkening a few centimetres from her shoulder.

"Your arm is bleeding." The prisoner's eyes darted in her direction before they sought out the cut.

“So... It is...” Dune raised her blade and embedded it into the icy ground. Cassandra re-drew her shield and kept close to her companion, her hand resting on the hilt of her own sword. She noticed some far off movement, judging by the green glow wisps, though luckily too far away to cause trouble.

“Do you require anything?”

"No... I'm fine..." Even with the other warrior's odd manner of speech, it was not difficult for Cassandra to pick up on the hostility coating her words. The sound of tearing fabric drew the Seeker's attention to the prisoner's back. Dune had removed her scarf and outer most layer of clothing, revealing a well worn and high collard sleeveless dark leather tunic. With the other woman's outer coat removed Cassandra was able to see the extent of her companions tattoos. Incredibly interact sky blue swirls danced all the way down from the elf's shoulders to her wrists. A singular thick band of the same solid colour wrapped around her arm mid bicep. The darkness of the prisoner's skin made the markings stand out under the light of the glowing sky. One thing that the Seeker took particular interest in was Dune's muscle mass, as most of the elves she had met prior were thin beings built for stealth. This was simply not the case with the prisoner. The other warrior's arms were clearly used to wielding large weaponry. Dune was just finishing tying off a strip of fur with her teeth when she met the Seeker's gaze.

"I have potions."

“Not deep... enough... to waste...” The elf secured her scarf back around her neck before tying the coat around her hips and hefting the greatsword back over her shoulder.

“What about your tattoos?”

“What... about them?”

“Won't it leave a mark?” Dune shrugged.

“Worse marks... elsewhere...” She marched past the Seeker towards the rising hillside. The prisoner had only just made it to the base of the stairs when both her ear's flicked upwards. They may have only been travelling for a few hours or so, but Cassandra had caught on to the change as meaning trouble. She drew her blade as the elf adjusted her own grip.

“More demons?”

“Some... fighting... who?” Cassandra started up the steps, taking two at a time.

“We'll see soon enough, we should help them.”

 

\---

 

All Varric could think, as he sent another bolt at a flaming figure, that vaguely reminded him of a particularly surly elf, was fuck did he miss Kirkwall. Sure the place was a mess and crime was beyond rampant and the last time he stopped by the Hanged Man there was a very dead man lying across his favourite table. But there were no demons. Though there wasn't any Hawke either. His friend wrote often and was spending most of her time either protecting Daisy's clan or sailing the seas with Rivaini trying to track down Sunshine. The Storyteller sighed and glanced at the Mage standing a few feet to his left, scowl permanently etched into the other man's face. Another pang of homesickness hit him as he was reminded of Broody with his solemn demeanour and off-putting personality, last he heard from Aveline the man was in Tevinter killing slavers. Then there was the Big Girl herself, she was far too busy for him to even get in a game of Wicked Grace prior to his kidnapping... ok maybe he didn't miss Kirkwall, he missed his people, his people and not being ass deep in demons.

Varric frowned as he sunk more rounds into the rage demon, trying to get it to leave the very scared and poorly armed villager alone. It didn't work, the creature cut the young man down in seconds before turning to advance on him. The Storyteller fired and called out for aid, but he couldn't even see the Mage with Flamio in the way. He was going to get burned, he wasn't looking forward to getting burned. Though just as he hunkered down a familiar war cry echoed off of the rubble, Varric rolled his eyes. Of course, the Seeker would show up in his hour of need, no matter how hard he tried he could not seem to shake the dragon slayer. Yellow blood splattered across his clothes and bare chest as a large dented hunk of metal sliced the demon from head to toe.

"Fuck...!" His pint-sized saviour hissed before dropping her blade, clutching her left wrist and sprinting full tilt towards the nearby Rift. A shade attempted to strike the elf down but was quickly backhanded into oblivion by a relatively aggravated looking Seeker. The woman arrived at the magical rip before shoving her hand inside, there was a spark and a pop before the eldritch portal collapsed in on itself. The small elf fell to the ground panting. The dragon slayer sheathed her blade before stomping over, grabbing Tiny by her scarf and slamming the other warrior against a crumbling stone pillar.

“What did you do?” The taller warrior demanded. He didn't catch Tiny's response, she was really quiet for someone used to throwing around massive blades.

“Now Seeker is that how we go about making friends?” The Story Teller asked as he made his way over. The dragon slayer shot him a glare before focusing back on her unfortunate victim.

“This does not concern you, Varric.”

"Really? Because to me, it looks like you're attacking the only person who can fix this mess."

"I would find myself in agreement," offered the Mage.

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon her hand," Varric silently thanked Chuckles as the Seeker's face relaxed.

“That doesn't explain how she knew what to do. She is no Mage.”

“Correct,” so much for him helping.

“I... didn't... I just... wanted... the pain... gone...” The warrior's voice came out as little more than a wheezing hiss, it sounded like she was having trouble breathing.

“Whoa, ease up!” The dwarf placed his hand on the tall woman's arm and pulled her back slightly, it wasn't much but he managed to give the elf enough room to wiggle free.

“I am not choking her,” the Seeker snarled and shook him off. “She just sounds like that.”

“Sure and my nose was always crooked,” Chuckles squeezed between the dragon slayer and Tiny. He raised his hand as if to check the other elf's throat and she swiftly ducked under his reach.

“Cassandra... is right... I just... do this...” the mage frowned as the other elf left to retrieve her blade.

“Could it be used to close the Breach itself?” The Seeker asked, gaze moving from glaring down at Varric to tracking her fellow warrior.<

“Possibly,” Chuckles turned back towards Tiny as she re-joined the group. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Look at that Seeker, I was right! You were manhandling our ticket out of demon city,” he faced the elf, she really was small, though he still had to glance up to meet her gaze and she did look as if she could toss him over her shoulder like a sack of grain. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag alone,” he winked at the Seeker, who glared in response, as he held out a hand towards the elf. Tiny smiled back at him and shook his hand.

“Dune... warrior... sword barer... and part... time prisoner...” Varric chuckled.

“Good to know that I'm not the only one who's kept their sense of humour.” Dune's smile widened and she let out what sounded like a popping wheeze.

“What else... am I supposed... to do? Take up knitting?”

"Why not? I bet if you asked nicely the Seeker would lend you a hand?" Tiny's head snapped back in silent laughter.

"Oh, I like you..."

"You may reconsider that stance, in time," the Mage muttered

“Aw. I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

“Absolutely not,” the Seeker barked as she stomped between the Storyteller and his new friend. “Your help is appreciated. Varric, but...”

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me." The dragon slayer scrunched up her face as if trying to think of a way to prevent him from joining the ragtag team. Chuckles took it as his chance and introduced himself to the other elf.

“My name is Solas if there are to be introductions,” he said. “I am pleased to see you still live.” Dune frowned and narrowed her eyes at the mage's words, Varric sighed.

"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'” Dune nodded, though she still looked somewhat put off.

"Thanks..." the Mage seemed displeased with her rather curt answer but continued on none the less.

"Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen-"

"Understood," The Seeker cut him off. "We must get to the Forward Camp quickly." The tall warrior made her way to a nearby cluttered path, with an annoyed elf at her heals.

“Is she always like... that?” Dune asked.

“Like what? Blunt and rude or just generally unpleasant to be around?”

“What's the difference?”

“Trust me Jay-Bird, there's a huge difference,” the elf cocked her head to the side.

“Jay-Bird-?”

“We do not have time for this, we must hurry!” The Seeker ordered.

"Yes, mother!" Dune chirped, Varric chuckled and Cassandra made what could only be described as a disgusted noise as the group continued their journey towards the Forward Camp.

 

\---

 

Dune was nowhere near as skilled with the oversized cleaver as she was with her own blade and often found herself cursing any god that came to mind for her luck. More than once she miscalculated a swing and heard the scrape of her sword against the Seeker's shield or had her grip too loose when a greater shade backhanded her guard, causing the weapon to sail out of her grasp and forcing Varric to dive for cover. The insides of her cheeks were raw and bloody from trying to keep her embarrassment at bay. The Seeker had offered to look for a smaller blade multiple times and the dwarf simply joked about her desire to wield the great sword like a throwing axe. Dune knew that they were merely trying to help, at least that's what she chose to believe, though the Seeker was probably tired of having to watch out for both demons and her companion. Dune sighed as she pried the iron monstrosity out of the ground and hefted it back over her shoulder.

“You know Jay-Bird,” Varric said, putting away his crossbow. “I bet if we took a quick look around we'd be able to find you something that could strap that monster to your back.”

“More effort... then the... thing's worth...”

“Fair enough, but your backs gonna be killing you tomorrow.” Dune chuckled.

“If I... live that... long...”

“Andraste's tits, someone's pretty doom and gloom.” Dune raised a brow and pointed at her vallaslin.

“Falon'Din... Dalish god... of death... doom and gloom... comes with the territory...”

"Ah, so you are aware of who's marks you bear." She shot Baldy a glare before huffing and trying to walk off. "Why Falon'Din? If you do not mind me asking."

“I do... mind,” Solas frowned.

“I did not catch your clan name.”

“That's 'Cuz... I didn't... give it...”

“You do not speak like most Dalish.”

"No...? Really...? Well, I'm glad... that I know now... wouldn't want... to embarrass myself at the next... Arlathvhen." The Mage's ears twitched forward as he blew air out his nose.

“Dune does not sound Dlaish...”

“You know what Chuckles? I think Jay-Bird would like it if you left her alone.”

“I was just-”

"Demons!" Whatever the relatively nosy elf was going to say next got cut off by a war cry from the Seeker who had gotten a decent ways away during their argument. Dune charged forward and made it to the other warrior's side just as she deflected the shadowy claws of a shade. Dune's mark flared and she bared her teeth as her blade separated the demon's head from its shoulders. She and the Seeker pushed forward, magic whizzed by her head far too close for comfort. She felt her face twist into a snarl as she ducked under the Seeker's shield and swung out her greatsword, clipping a nearby horror in the knees. It fell and Dune rushed past, knowing that Cassandra was fully capable of finishing the newly kneeless. She glanced over as she heard Varric shout, three shades had surrounded him too far away for either of the warriors to make it to him in time and Solas didn't appear to notice the rouge's predicament. Dune flung her weapon with all her might, effectively taking the demons out of the fight but leaving her unarmed. The small woman turned to face an oncoming wraith, with no armour and no blade most would be as good as dead. Fortunately for Dune, she was not like most.

She lowered her head and raised her hands, fist fighting a demon wasn't ideal, but Dune had full confidence that she could hold the thing back until aide arrived. She sprung forward on her right foot and slid past the creature, it turned just in time for her to drive her elbow into where the apparition's face should have been. It felt like her limb was passing through a thick almost gelatinous fog and her skin tingled upon contact. The living vapour screeched and summoned blue mana shields with a wave of its stumpy hand, Dune dove to the left as it flung a ball of spiritual energy at her. She grabbed a rock and threw it at the creature. Its head snapped back as Dune regained her footing. The wisp raised it's hand to strike just as a blade sprouted from it's chest. It disintegrated before Dune had the chance to lower her fists. Ice met Fire once again as a furious Dragon gazed down at a cocky lioness.

"Have you gone mad?" The Seeker demanded, taking a step forward and snarling right in her face, though Dune was not one to back down from a challenge and stepped up to meet Cassandra. She tilted her head back and crossed her arms.

“Those shades... would've... grabbed... Varric...”

"We do not need Varric to seal the Breach!" Dune narrowed her eyes and balanced on the balls of her feet, she just came up to the Seeker's chest, she jabbed the taller warrior in her breastplate with a crooked finger.

“No life... is... expendable...” Cassandra frowned.

“I wasn't...”

“It doesn't... matter what... yeah was... or... wasn't... trying to say... Think before... yeah speak Seeker... Yeah never... know who's... listening...” Dune nodded behind the aggravated warrior, who turned and met Varric's wary gaze.

“I...” the rogue ignored her as he walked past, dragging Dune's cleaver behind him. He handed the blade off before making his way towards a set of stairs.

“Words may not... be able to... break noses... like that elbow... of yours, but... they can... still open... deep wounds...” Dune left the still fuming woman with her thoughts and sidled up next to Varric.

"Y'all right...?"

“Yeah just..." he sighed. "I knew the Seeker didn't like me and I don't care much for her. It's just... shit...”

“It doesn't... matter who's talking... being called... a pawn... ain't the greatest....”

“You can say that again,” Varric scratched the back of his neck. “Well enough of that, we've got a sky to fix.”

Yeah... yeah... we do...”

 

\---

 

Jay-Bird was reckless, that much was obvious. She had a tendency to do things mid-battle that no one could predict. Whether it be toss her blade like a throwing knife or full body tackle shades, no one could really tell where she was going next. Watching her fight was chaotic and if Varric didn't know better he'd say that the warrior had no skill and was swinging a hunk of steal around like a maniac desperate to survive. But every time he took a second and watched her, he could see it. Slight pauses before her charges, seconds went by as she took stock of where her allies were on the field. The way she danced around the Seeker's shield or disabled creatures and left them because she knew that the dragon slayer would cover her back. Oh, there was method to her madness, a familiar method that he had gotten to learn after years watching another bird take flight.

When they finally arrived at the Forward Camp a Rift had set up shop. The Seeker was first to charge in, shield out a battle cry shocking the inter-dimensional creatures that were in the middle of slaughtering soldiers. Chuckles backed her up, spells from his salvaged staff weaving around allies and pelting Terrors coating them in frost and ash. Varric had already fallen a few foes of his own before he even noticed where Jay-Bird had ended up, he glanced over towards the Mage just in time to catch sight of a silent shadow raising hazy claws above its head. Fully prepared to rip out the other man's spine. Before Varric could shout a warning or line up a shot a corrupted gnarled fist crashed through the demon's chest. As it vaporized he watched Dune Pied Piper a train of the things after her. Leaping in directions that pulled the creatures into the line of fire of her companions while keeping their attention fully on her. Occasional causing the entities to crash into or even attack one another as they tried to keep pace. One of the horrors drifted close to him and glanced his way, though momentarily as Dune scrunched her face up in concentration and the thing turned back towards her. Varric fired a shot and the twisted demon's head exploded in a shower of yellow before vanishing. The Seeker cut down the one at the tail end of the smaller warrior's train and only then did Dune lift her blade and strike a devastating blow through the remaining creature's shoulder. She let her weapon sink into the ground before raising her hand and pulling the Rift closed.

"So any idea why those demons were out for your blood in particular? I haven't seen them do that yet." Dune glanced his way before wiping sweaty palms on ruined fur trousers.

"Terrors are... attracted... to fear... focused on... things... was afraid... and well..." She shrugged.

“Wait, back up, you intentional carted those things after you?”

“What do you mean intentionally?” They both jumped, turning to spot the Seeker leering over them, arms crossed and expression laced with clear disapproval.

“It appears that our reluctant saviour is well aware of what exactly causes a demon to target someone,” Chuckles added hands clasped behind his back smug expression plastered across his face. “Though, purposely working oneself into such a state, where multiple creatures of fear are hunting you is not the most well thought out of plans.”

“I... know what... I'm doing...”

"You say as if you have dealt with demons before?" He inquired, the Seeker took a step forward and Varric slid between her and Jay-Bird. He wasn't about to let the dragon slayer lay her hands on the elf again.

"You were involved, with the explosion! You must have been!"

"No, I.... at least..." Dune frowned and her eyes narrowed. "I don't... think I was..."

“You don't think you were?”

“No... I can't...” Dune reached up and grabbed her head, ears drooped back. “I was with my clan, the Keeper wanted to speak to... D... me then...” A thin trickle of blood dripped out of Dune's nose. “I was running.... something... was chasing me? ... a woman...?” Dune closed her eyes and swayed on her feet she shook her head back and forth.

“A woman?”

"No... I he.... Were is he... I refuse... Bax... He couldn't just..." Blood was flowing freely from the small elf's nose as she swayed, the Seeker pushed past Varric and caught Jay-Bird by her forearms just as she tipped forward. Dune's head slumped against the taller warrior's breastplate. Varric reached up and touched her arm, she felt like she was on fire.

“Um... Chuckles something's up...” the mark sparked and the Mage placed his hand on Jay's forehead, quickly chanting under his breath.

"Where... Summer... gone ... not what about... I we... I hear... the baying..." Moments past and Dune started to pull away from the Seeker, she looked pale and fresh blood was smeared across her face, but she had stopped muttering. Jay blinked at the others.

“What...?”

“Solas?”

“I do not know,” Chuckles frowned. “If I had to guess, old magic.”

“Like the mark?”

“No, different I do not know where to even begin,” he replied. Cassandra lowered herself to meet the other warrior's eyes. Twin glassy blue orbs, so light that they appeared almost white, stared back at her.

“Is she safe?”

“In theory.”

“In theory?”

“As long as no one pushes her to remember what she cannot, she should be fine.”

“What about-”

"Look," Varric cut them off. "I know that this is a new and very shity development, but there's still a hole in the sky so maybe talk later?" He pointed at the Breach. The Mage and the warrior glanced his way before nodding and walking off, Dune looked down at him, confusion plastered across her features. "We'll talk later Jay." She frowned but followed the others. Varric sighed, just his luck stumbling across someone saddled with old magic and getting stuck having to save the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Y'all been a hot minute,
> 
> So here's chapter three, sorry about the opening taking so long I just wanted to establish the characters a bit more before moving on. Anyways next Chapter will be the end of The Wrath of Heaven and the last section before the Hinterlands.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this fic!
> 
> IAAWIP
> 
> P.S (Language) 
> 
> Elven
> 
> Vallaslin - Dalish tattoos  
> Arlathvhen - A meeting held between all the Dalish clans


	4. The Wrath of the Old Gods and What Comes After - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana mediates, Rodrick bitches, Cassandra gets a headache and Dune questions the newly founded Inquisition's intentions.

Leliana had arrived at the Forward Camp quicker than initially intended, though the journey was far from easy. Soldiers were being overrun by demons, the snow died pink as limbs and bits of flesh were scattered to and fro. The Sister could have saved a few, but with her focus set on beating the Seeker to the outpost, she ignored any potential survivors. The carnage did not matter, nothing did. The world was ending and if they could not plug the hole in the sky far more than a hand full of righteous men would end up in shallow unmarked graves ripe for possession.

As Leliana rapidly charted down what she knew of the Fade tampered battlefield one of her little birds darted from the shadows passing on a missive. According to the letter not only had Cassandra and the prisoner been delayed, but it appeared the elf possessed the ability to close Rifts. Hope was a fleeting thing and most definitely something that the Sister was not about to squander. She immediately started gathering her men, only for her actions to be rebuffed by a Chantry puppet squawking for attention.

"What in Andraste's name are you doing?" The small man demanded face red and fragile shoulders bunched up to his ears.

"I am preparing the soldiers for one last push," her tone was final and left no room for argument, though the Chancellor appeared to disagree.

"We will do no such thing."

"We?"

“Yes we,” he jabbed her in the chest with a soft hand that had never known hard labour. “Last I checked you still worked for the Chantry.”

“I serve Most Holy,” Leliana narrowed her eyes. “She would have agreed with my actions. The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!”

"You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility." The Sister crossed her arms and glared at the man stationed at her makeshift war table. His unblemished hands smoothed out hastily charted maps, smudging the still fresh ink. She opened her mouth to respond, but never got the chance as those she was waiting for approached. They were lead by the Seeker who, other than for the dried blood smeared on her face as well as the dark yellowish splatters across her armour, looked no worse for ware. The apostate Healer flanked Cassandra and bringing up the rear was the infamous Storyteller as well as the prisoner. The woman had shed her overcoat and was covered in nicks and scrapes though nothing appeared to be fatal, well, minus the constant flickering scar that sat nestled in the palm of the elf's hand. Leliana's gaze drifted to the oversized blade within the woman's clutches. Her lips drew into a thin line as she caught the Seeker's eye before raising an elegant brow. Cassandra merely flicked out the pointer finger on her left hand silently signalling for the Sister to drop it and before Leliana could press farther the Chancellor acknowledged the parties presence.

"Ah, here they come."

"You made it," Leliana said, stepping around the table. "Chancellor Roderick, this is..."

"I know who she is, " Roderick glanced past the Seeker to the blood-soaked elf. "As grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution." The elf narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth as if to argue only for the Seeker to place herself between the prisoner and Chancellor.

"'Order me'? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!"

"And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!" Before the sister could attempt to placate her friend the prisoner stormed past the Seeker and slammed her left fist into the table. There was a crack of splintering wood and a sizzling pop as the mark on elf's hand flared. The Chancellor leapt back at the display.

"Excuse me...! That woman..." She gestured to Cassandra, ears drawn back and teeth bared. "Is one of... the best damn... fighters I have ever... Seen! And yeah have the... fucking gall to call her... a thug? I have a mind... no... a right to run yeah... threw you little shi-" The elf was cut off as the now calm though very clearly shocked Seeker yanked her back from the table. Rodrick looked pale despite the small woman's clear wheezing.

"We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor," Leliana reminded him as her friend pulled the furious prisoner behind her. "As you well know." It took the man a moment to regain his bravado, but he came back arms held up and eyes narrowed.

"Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!"

"What about the hole in the sky, yeah fuck wit!?" It appeared that the elf was not quite done, the Mage looked like he was trying not to smile and Varric shot the small woman a full-faced grin.

"I'm the fuck wit? You're the one who brought this upon us!"

“Bite me Shemlen!”

“Enough!” Cassandra turned to the elf and glared at her, “behave!”

“Always...” The prisoner grinned and the Seeker rolled her eyes.

“Call a retreat, Seeker,” Rodrick said his voice softer than before. “Our position here is hopeless.”

"We can stop this before it's too late," Cassandra replied.

"How? You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers."

"Not with that attitude..." the elf grumbled, Leliana shot her a look.

"We must get to the temple. It's the quickest route." The Seeker stated.

"But not the safest," Leliana said while gesturing towards the countryside. "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains." Cassandra crossed her arms and shook her head.

"We lost contact with an entire squad on that path, it is too risky."

"Listen to me," Rodrick appeared to take their disagreement as his chance to interject once more. "Abandon this now before more lives are lost!" The sky boomed as the Breach expanded, the entire camp shook and the elf's greatsword hit the ground with a metallic clang, the small woman hissed and grasped her left wrist. The whole limb shook and twitched with ancient magic, the dwarf reached up to support the cursed woman as she stumbled. When the growth finished and her mark stopped flaring the Seeker continued.

"How do you think we should proceed?"

"Why in Thedas... would yeah want... my opinion?"

"You have the mark." Solas offered.

"I also have feet... but that... don't make me... a cobbler..."

"True," the Seeker stated. "But you are the one we must keep alive. Since we cannot agree on our own..." there was a pause as the elf grabbed her chin, seemingly mulling the options over.

"I say we charge..." she met the Chancellor's eye. "I won't survive till your trial... I'm living on borrowed time..." She looked towards the breach, "Whatever happens, happens now." The Sister shook her head, Cassandra, on the other hand, nodded in agreement before addressing the former Bard.

"Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone." She nodded before heading off to find their Commander if they were going to push she would make sure that they did so properly. As she made it to the gates she heard Rodrick's parting words.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker.”

 

\---

 

Leliana tried not to think about the still flaming statuesque corpses that littered the ground where the Temple once stood as she and her scouts clung to the shadows. She could hear the fighting in the valley, the Commander was keeping the demons back and no matter her dislike of Cassandra's choice the Sister could recognize the ex-Templar's ability to lead.

She approached what was left of the ruined tomb with her flock, only to catch sight of Varric ducking in behind a partially collapsed wall. She and her little birds picked up their pace and darted forward in a sea of knives and arrows. She let out a sigh of relief as she spotted the Seeker and prisoner gazing up at the Breach, faces grim and grips tight on their weapons.

“You're here,” she called alerting the others to her presence, it would not do to give the elf a heart attack prior to closing the gaping sky maw spewing out corrupted spirits. “Thank the Maker.” The elf's gaze landed on her briefly before turning back to the abomination hanging above their heads.

"Leliana," Cassandra called. "Have your men take up positions around the temple." The Sister nodded it was no use trying to push conversation with her friend, especially in a situation this dire. She turned and left to find a perch high enough for her to snipe potential threats, but shadowed in a way that would keep her position hidden from even the most perceptive of foes; she had experience fighting demons after all and was well aware of how to put said knowledge to use. Her flock copied her movements and ended up roosting in similar alcoves. Leliana shook out her right arm, the limb was stiff and uncooperative but she knew how to bend it to her will. She would no doubt be sore the coming morrow, but she could at least provide support as needed. The Sister watched as the Seeker led the small party down towards the crater, she nocked an arrow and followed the prisoner with her gaze. If she was a lesser rogue she would have let the arrow fly true the second deep rumbling echos began to ebb and flow from the Breach.

"Now is the hour of our victory," a disembodied voice drawled. "Bring forth the sacrifice." Icy claws crawled their way down Leliana's spine, she kept her face neutral as the party continued their decent, but could not keep her eyes from widening at the sight of glowing crimson crystalline pillars. Red lyrium, if a small idol could destroy an entire city that much had the potential to end all of Thedas. "Keep the sacrifice still."

"Someone help me!" Her brows shot into her hairline.

"Justinia..." She whispered, a private call of recognition, the sound unheard to even herself over the wind. Cassandra and the prisoner finally leapt down into the depths of the crater, the air shifted and she saw the elf's mark spark.

"Someone help me!" Justinia's echo repeated and it took everything in Leliana's power not to cry out at the sheer horror in her former guardian's voice.

"What... Put her down!" A furious yell came crashing through the green portal, a voice that the Sister identified as the prisoner's, though she has never heard it coated with such venom. She watched as the woman bent forward and the Seeker reached out to catch her, the Storyteller was at her side as well and waved over the apostate. Though the elf shrugged them off and marched towards the other side of the pit before he could approach. Odd. The prisoner crouched down, her back facing the Breach, in some rumble and began digging out what looked like a bramble patch. Leliana was tempted to fire an arrow just to get the woman to focus. This was not the time to be playing in guts and soot. Though before the Sister let one fly a blinding flash of light filled the area and ghostly imprints faded into existence. A figure of darkness and shadow towered over one of light and bound by green, only for a being of fire to burst onto the scene. The prisoner's previous angry shout echoed from the living flames.

"Run while you still can," cried the golden form in Most Holy's voice. "Warn them!"

"We have an intruder," the darkness shifted and grew. "Kill the mutt." The light flashed once more and Leliana was forced to close her eyes at its sheer brilliance. She managed to regain herself as the elf returned to those in the crater, with a new weapon in hand. An incredibly large greatsword, easily longer than Cassandra was tall, sat balanced across the elf's shoulder. Although quite long the blade itself was thin and ornate a space clearly visible running down the length though ending before one could become two. Vines and what looked like stalks of bramble weaved in and out of the weapon's gap, it appeared as if the branches were moving slowly and she was almost certain that the plants were wrapped around the prisoner's hands securing them to the sword's hilt. She watched as Cassandra approached the elf, she could not see the Seeker's lips nor make out her voice. Whatever argument between the two was cut short as the prisoner gently pulled her left hand from the tangle that had engulfed it and made her way towards the Breach.

 

\---

 

Leliana expected something big to come through and to have to pull a quiver from one of her deceased flock when she herself had run out of arrows. She was prepared for the pain to flare in her half-dead arm as she pushed passed the limb's limits. What she was unprepared for was the elf to vanish, only to reappear mid-free fall as she plunged the oversized blade into the massive pride demon's back. Though to give herself credit when the elf left the blade behind and hit the ground she chose to suspend her disbelief, even when the prisoner pointed at the greatsword still embedded in the goliath's form and yelled what sounded like, 'Lightning!' The Sister learned something that day, something that she had not ever considered, it turned out that Pride demons were not immune to electricity on the inside.

When the creature faded from existence the elf ran to collect her blade before turning to face the Breach once more and, despite what she had mentally promised, Leliana found herself once again astounded, though this time not by the elf. Cassandra slid across the stone covered ground, most definitely tearing apart the knees of her breeches, and just managed to catch the fainting prisoner.

 

\---

 

The old man with a gruff demeanour had finally shooed Cassandra out of Dune's supplied hut to finish his assessment. The Seeker huffed as she was shoved forward and stumbled out the door only to have the blasted thing slammed shut behind her, she turned and debated the ramifications of kicking the thin wood in.

“Why Seeker,” Leliana called, her voice pitched with amusement. “If I did not know better I would have said that you are fussing, not unlike a mother hen.”

“I am not 'fussing',” she threw up her hands and narrowed her eyes. “I am simply worried, the Herald-”

“Herald? So you believe what other's say about the prisoner?” The Nightingale's eyebrows shot up as she covered her mouth to feign shock.

“The mark was placed on her that much we know. The Maker works in mysterious ways, and she was the one who found Most Holy.” Cassandra rolled her eyes and bumped the other woman's shoulder as she passed. Leliana merely giggled not budging an inch.

“So you claim that her being in the right place at the right time means her to be blessed?” The Spymaster asked as she quickly matched the Seeker's pace. “With that logic, who is to say that ma belle or even Hawke were not touched?”

“And who is to say that they weren't?”

“Really?” Leliana ducked her head into Cassandra's view, “you would argue that what my paramour has gone through was of the Maker's will?”

“I do not want to have this conversation Leliana,” the Seeker sighed. “I feel like the more I speak the more twisted my words come falling out.”

“Then perhaps,” Leliana straightened. “We shall continue this at another time, non? When your head is not full of worry?”

“I have every right to worry,” she shot back. “The Herald was not in the best of conditions during our hike to the Breach and now she lays unconscious being cared for by that... that lófaszt" She was red-faced and angry, though the Sister seemed to find her predicament entirely too amusing.

"What in Thedas, could one man do to warrant such hatred?"

"He will not let anyone guard the Herald as he pokes and prods her with his tools!" The Seeker raved. "How are we to ensure her safety?"

"It is probably quite difficult for him to work with an angry dragon breathing down his neck-"

"I'm not, I wasn't, I-" 

"Cass!" The Nightingale called as she grabbed the Seeker's arm, effectively cutting her off before she could ramble. "Chacun voit midi à sa porte, pouvez-vous pas voir ça?”

“Do you trust Adan? Truly?”

"To patch up the Herald? Without intentionally harming her?" Leliana nodded, "of course."

"Then I will place my faith in yours," she sighed.

"This is not like with Justinia, we are here, we are present and we will ensure that the Herald of Andraste survives." Cassandra let out a humourless chuckle.

"Are you sure about that? You do not understand how reckless that woman can be."

"Oh, I am quite certain I do. After all, I did witness her leap from Maker knows where onto a pride demons back."

"That does... You what?" Her loud cry of outrage led to multiple onlookers turning to regard the pair of former Hands.

"Maybe we should discuss our new charge's tendencies over some tea," Leliana did not wait for her reply as she had already started guiding her towards the Chantry. Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut while attempting to regain her composure.

"Ah, Seeker, Sister Nightingale," called a familiar nasally voice. "Just who I've been looking for," Rodrick said as he stood flanked by two fully armed and armoured Templars.

"Chancellor Rodrick, what can we do for you?"

“I'm afraid the mater that I wish to discuss is not for prying ears. If you would please fallow me.” The man turned on his heal and strutted off in the direction of the Chantry, Cassandra grunted, this was turning into a long day.

 

\---

 

When Dune awoke she was once again in an unfamiliar environment, though admittedly a much more pleasant one. She laid on a thin yet well-made straw mattress, soft linen sheets were draped over her and a small fire smelling of pine burned lazily in a nearby stone hearth. She blinked before pulling herself into a sitting position only to shiver as her once covered skin came into contact with chilly air. She frowned at the small window to her left and rose to close the cursed thing.

Dune leapt into the air, her ears shooting up straight, as a loud thud sounded behind her and when she turned to investigate a small elven woman with tousled hair and a panicked expression was staring at her as if she was some sort of beast.

"Oh," the mysterious woman exclaimed. "I didn't know you were awake, I swear!"

"S'alright," Dune moved to help the woman gather her things. "I'm sorry for startling yeah."

“No I... you didn't,” the woman mumbled before falling to her knees, ears drooped back. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” Dune paused. "You are back in Haven, my lady," that didn't mean much to her as she didn't know what Haven was. "They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand," well the pain was gone that much she knew.

"You're pretty informed..."

"It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days."

"I've been out for three days?"

"Oh! I didn't mean to alarm you," the servant looked worried and pressed her forehead deeper into the floor.

"No no no! It's ok, I'm fine see not worried." Dune smiled as she approached the woman, trying to calm her down, though her smile was more like a startled dog baring its teeth.

"I'm certain the Lady Seeker would want to know you've wakened," The elf said, standing quickly and backing up towards the door. "She said, 'at once'." Dune sighed if she wasn't going to get anywhere talking to this woman. She might as well try to track down Cassandra.

"Where is she?"

"In the Chantry," the elf said while backing towards the door and not meeting her eyes. "With the Lord Chancellor. 'at once,' she said." The woman then turned and ran, Dune stared after her for a moment before reaching up and rubbing her temples.

"Bleeding fucking thorns, what did I step in?" She asked the now empty room, Dune ran her hands over her face before moving to check and see what the servant had left behind. A fleece tunic, dark work boots and pair of thick hose. The tights she could use as her old fur pair had been all but destroyed during the exhausting climb to the Breach, the tunic on the other hand. Dune glanced down and was able to spot a few tears in the leather of her own that were easy enough to patch, plus the other shirt's neckline wasn't high enough for her liking. She froze and reached towards her throat. Her tunic was done up tight, but her scarf was missing. A quick search found the old faded blue rag hanging on the back of the cabin's lone chair. She tied it into place and slipped on her old fur boots. She wasn't a fan of sticking her bare toes in the snow, but the work boots were far too heavy for her tastes. One last search around the cabin told her that her long lost sword was not present, she huffed guessing that was simply one more thing she'd have to ask the Seeker about. She made her way to the door but pressed her ear to the wood prior to departing. She could hear the shuffling and chatting of a large group of people, no, that wouldn't do.

Dune made her way back over to the window, slid it open, climbed out and gently dropped it closed before rounding the corner to a nearby alley and letting out a muffled shriek as she bumped into someone and their hand flew to her mouth.

"Adraste's ass," whisper yelled a familiar rogue. "What the shit are you doing sneaking around, Jay-bird?" Dune batted his hand away before grabbing him by the collar and marching off to another cabin's back yard a few buildings off.

"I'm not a fan of large crowds," she offered after checking the alleyway for prying eyes and ears before shoving Varric inside. “Especially ones that think I'm some sort of...” she waved her arms above her head, "I don't even know."

"Herald of Andraste."

"Excuse me?"

"They think you plugging the hole in the sky means that you were sent by the Maker himself."

"I don't know if they've heard, but I'm a little thing known as Dalish and my people and their Chantry don't exactly have the best of track records."

"Oh no, they're aware."

"Then-"

"Some are calling you Falon'Din's chosen."

"He's the god of death."

"Yup." Dune stared at him, eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted before her ears went flat against her head and she raised her hands in a strangling motion. "Yeah, some started calling you Mythal's chosen and then one of the elven mercenaries said that your markings were actually of mister grave walker and here we are."

"I... but... that doesn't," Dune covered her face and took a deep breath before letting out a muffled scream, Varric patted her on the back.

"I know Jay, I wish I could say I've been trying to stop the roomers, but I've been spending most of my time hiding."

"Why?"

"Now that the smokes cleared people are asking me about Kirkwall and apparently telling them to go read the Tale of the Champion is not a satisfying response."

"Isn't Kirkwall the city that kicked off the war...?" the elf lowered her hands. "Fenharel's infected taint Varric! What in the lost Dales happened to yeah?" It was her first time actually inspecting the rogue and he was far worse for wear then she remembered him being. The man's previously bare chest was covered in bandages and a few were even wrapped around his face, she could just make out some of the angry red blotchy skin beneath.

"Oh yeah," he laughed. "Apparently most people are allergic to demon blood, imagine that."

"Y'alright?"

"Yeah just itches like a blighted dust bugger."

"Fuck, yeah look awful."

"Thanks, Jay, you really know how to kick a guy when he's down."

“Well to be fair, it's kind of hard to tell when you're not.”

"That's rich coming from the shortest elf I've ever seen."

"I prefer vertically challenged."

"And I prefer not being knee deep in snow, yet here we are," the two tricksters shared a grin. "Why are you out skulking around anyway?"

"Oh shit! I forgot, Cassandra wanted to see me!"

"Have fun with that," Dune cocked her head to the side. "From what I've heard she and the Sister have been arguing with the Chancellor since noon." Dune glanced over the mountain tops at the setting sun and cringed.

"Well, wish me luck."

"You're gonna need a lot more than luck Jay, after all, you're walking into the dragon's den."

 

\---

 

Leliana was trying to rub some feeling back into her arm as she watched the Seeker gnash her teeth at Rodrick.

"Have you gone completely mad?" The man demanded while jabbing a finger into Cassandra's face, well close to her face, as with most the woman towered over him. "She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!"

"I do not believe she is guilty," Cassandra crossed her arms and kept her chin high as she glared down at the Chancellor. Leliana spotted a shadow as it moved beneath the war room's door, it appeared that they had a light-footed evesdropper.

"The prisoner failed, Seeker," Rodrick stated, his tone condescending. "The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way."

"I do not believe that."

“That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My duty,” Cassandra started, lip curled up in disgust. “Is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.” The two continued to glare at one another, a weasel trying to stare down a dragon, Leliana almost laughed. The door quietly slid open as a marked elf slipped into the room and, unfortunately, Rodrick was facing the newcomer.

“Chain her,” he stated, gesturing to the two Templars present. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial." The elf's eyes narrowed and she stepped away from the Templars if either moved the Sister knew there would be a fight whether or not the woman before her was armed.

"Disregard that," Cassandra said with a look on her face that told Leliana the Seeker had all but forgotten about their Templar chaperones. "And leave us." The men at the door saluted before departing. The Herald relaxed somewhat, but slunk into a corner, keeping all of them, door included, well within her line of sight.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker," Rodrick sneered.

"The Breach is stable," Cassandra leaned down her face only inches away from that of the weasel's. "But it is still a threat. I. Will. Not. Ignore. It." The chancellor stumbled back.

"So I'm still a suspect," the elf asked as she crossed her arms and glared over at the feuding parties. "Even after all that?"

"You absolutely are."

"No," Cassandra said as she narrowed her eyes and positioned herself between the Chancellor and the elf. "She is not."

"Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave," Feeling as if there was a chance for her to join in the conversation, Leliana ducked out of the shadows, the elf's ears twitched apparently having not noticed her presence. "Someone Most Holy did not expect." “Perhaps,” she sauntered over to Rodrick, causing him to back away. “They died with the others – or have allies who yet live.”

“I... I,” the man stumbled as his back hit stone. “Am a suspect?”

“You, and many others.”

“But not the prisoner.”

“I heard the voices in the Temple,” Cassandra said. “The Divine called to her for help.”

“So her survival, that thing on her hand – all a coincidence?”

“Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

“The Maker sent me,” The elf barked, everyone turned to face her. “Good one.”

"You cannot deny that you were exactly who we needed," the Seeker frowned.

"And when the Divine's shoe horn was needed, did yeah call it sacred?"

"That is not-"

"The Breach remains," Leliana interrupted, they did not need another day-long argument. "And your mark is still our only hope of closing it."

“That is not for you to decide." said the Chancellor.

"You're still here," said the Herald, voice laced with fake surprise. "I figured that you'd have left while the adults were talking. Are the other children being mean to yeah?"

"What are you insinuating?" he demanded.

"Sorry was I not clear? Are the big words too much for your little mind?"

"Heretic, I-" he was cut off by a book being slammed into the table.

"You know what this is, Chancellor," Cassandra stated, tone matter of fact. "A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act." The Seeker stood tall, back straight and chin held high as she sized up her much smaller opponent. "At this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."

"What-!" "You've got to be fucking kidding me - " The chancellor and Herald said in union.

"We will close the Breach," began the Seeker as she started to chase Rodrick towards the door. "We will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval." Cassandra finished while jabbing the Chancellor in the chest and forcing him to once again stumble. The man straightened out his robes before shooting the Seeker a glare and storming out of the room. Cassandra scratched the back of her head as the elf stood with her jaw hanging open and ears pinned flat against her skull.

“This is the Divine's directive:” Leliana said, trying to draw the Herald's attention away from her flustered friend. “Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos,” she rounded the table and approached the small elf who stepped back. “We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice,” the Seeker stated as she too advanced on the elf who was looking increasingly nervous the more they preached. “We must act now,” Cassandra met the Herald's gaze. “With you at our side.”

“No,” the woman shook her head and began backing up towards the door. “I know what that means, Exalted Marches more slaughter-”

“We are not after your people-”

“If not my people than whose? Groups like that, like this, only exist to cause pain!"

“The world is in chaos-”

“The world's natural state is chaos! Magic is chaos! Dragons are chaos! Fuck storms that sink ships are made of chaos.”

“This is-”

“Then not of old, but of new,” offered Leliana stepping between the warriors. “Something to be proud of, something that stands for hope instead of fear?”

"How can I trust you," the elf demanded. "All I know is that you're Chantry!"

"Then join our war council-"

"What?" "Leliana you can't be serious-"

"Am I ever anything but Seeker?" She turned to face the elf, "You're right you have no reason to trust us, but if you have access to the Inquisition's inner workings than you won't have too."

"Leiliana-"

"Cassandra," the Sister shot back in a mocking tone.

"Everything," the elf was fully focused on her now. "I'll have access to all of your most delicate correspondence."

"Of course," she responded while shooting the Seeker a look.

"What if I refuse?"

"You can go. If you wish."

"You should know," the Seeker interjected. "That while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty. The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us."

“What about my Clan? How do I keep them safe if y'all can only protect what's within your grasp?”

“I can send people-”

“They're Dalish, even you're marked scouts won't be able to find them.”

“Ma melava halani,” the Sister spoke and the elf's head whipped around so fast she was surprised when her neck did not snap. “Melana en athim las enaste.”

“Ma nuva' dirtha Elvish,” the elf hissed back. “Mah tel'din elvarnas ma vena ma'lethal.”

“Vin,” Leliana removed one of her thick gloves revealing an intricately crafted bracelet made of halla leather with purple quarts woven in-between the strands. “Ma'vhenan ghi'lan em ash viren.”

“Oh,” the Herald's eyes widened and her ears flicked forwards. “I'm sorry I didn't know-”

“There is no reason for you to apologize,“ said the Sister as she re-donned her glove.

“Still-”

“I can have my people find your Clan,” she ignored the elf's hesitance. “Anyways, they should be protected due to no one knowing where you are from, non?”

“I guess-”

“It will not be easy if you stay,” said the Seeker. “But you cannot pretend that this has not changed you.”

“No I can't.” the Herald sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If y'all are trying to fix this cluster fuck-”

“That is the plan.”

“Help us fix this before it's too late,” finished Cassandra, hand outstretched.

“Whatever gods are watching,” replied the Herald as she took hold of the Seeker's hand. “Have a pretty twisted sense of humour.”

 

\---

 

Cassandra had been attending meetings all her life, whether they were for meeting potential suitors or being officially interviewed for the position of Left Hand. So she knew by now that it was a good idea to bring something to pass the time while others argued or someone ran late. Usually, her old worn copy of Song's From The Hills would have been enough to pass her time, except for the fact that the Cullen's whining was increasingly grating on her nerves. She never agreed with Leliana more about her pore choice in military leader than now.

"Where is she," demanded the Commander as they continued to wait.

"I told her that we would be starting in a candle mark-," tried the Spymaster.

"And yet we've been standing here for three-"

"Two Commander," offered the Ambassador. "It has only been two."

"It shouldn't be any! She's the one who wanted to be present for our planning so she's the one who should be here on time."

"This is all new and she's probably still recovering."

"We all are Ambassador, we're at war-"

"Enough!" The two quit their bickering at the Seeker's call, "we will not begin the meeting until the Herald of Andraste has arrived and if you are truly growing bored Commander then I suggest that next time you bring a book." Cullen huffed but halted his insistent grumbling. Well, for a few moments at least.

"There should be something that we can do without her here to oversee."

"There is," Leliana stepped up to the table. "We need to discuss providing the Herald with a bodyguard."

"From what I saw she seemed perfectly capable of handling herself on the battlefield if all be it a little clumsy."

"You have yet to see her fight with that enchanted blade of hers, Commander. What gaucheness filled her movement before is all but gone."

"Even more reason to not need one."

"I believe that the Spymaster is-" Cassandra tuned them out, she had her book, was seated in a relatively comfortable chair and could pass many a candle mark reading poetry before she grew restless. She felt herself relax as she continued to drift among stanzas filled with vines and flowers as the subject of one man's desire danced for a crowd that he could not see. She was drawn out of her literary world by the hairs standing up on the back of her neck, people were staring at her. She lowered the tome and was met with three pairs of eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing," Leliana smirked. "Garde du corps." It took a moment for her to process the former Bard's words.

"You cannot be serious."

"Why can't we be serious?" Offered Dune, causing everyone in the room but the Nightingale to jump. The door creaked like the world was ending whenever anyone else touched it, but the elf always somehow manage to silently slip through.

"Where were you?" Demanded Cullen.

"Where was I?" Dune repeated as she lent her blade against the wall, the thing's branches unwinding from her hands as they began to lazily slither up the stone. "Oh, yeah know just fighting a bigot for my sword."

"What-"

"No, who? As in who let that bald little shit get his hands on my blade while I was unconscious?"

"I don-"

"Because if I figure out who, I'm filling their bed with maggots and replacing their tea with dried dung," the Herald explained as she turned to address the room. "Do you know how fucking long it took me to get the damned thing back? Well?" She asked while glaring at Cullen who stood with shock clearly etched into his features, Josephine's eyes were wide and Leiliana was hiding a smile behind her hand. "Since I left! Since I officially joined the Inquisition, I have been hunting ol' Baxter down only to find out that some pea-brained thorn fucker let the most pretentious of elves get his greedy little hands on it. Do you know how long it's gonna take me to get the smell of Fade monkey out of the wood?"

"I... I-" Cullen stammered.

"That's what I thought," Dune turned to face the Sister with an exasperated sigh. "Sorry that I'm late."

"Non, if you being late leads to a show. By all means, take your time." The Herald coughed and blushed before turning away from the former Bard.

"So why are we not being serious?" Cassandra made a disgusted noise, Leliana laughed, Josephine chuckled and even the previously terrified Commander smirked, "what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, so illness is neat.
> 
> Sorry that it has been a while, on the bright side this one's a bit longer than the others so yeah...  
> Anyways, I'll try to get the next chapter out quicker. 
> 
> Oh, and before I forget! The general consensus around Cassandra's accent or at least the real world equivalent is either German or Hungarian. I've chosen to go with Hungarian so I can add more languages because I hate myself.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this fic!
> 
> IAAWIP
> 
> P.S (Language)
> 
> Hungarian
> 
> Lófaszt - Horse Dick
> 
> French
> 
> Ma Belle - My Beautiful  
> Non - No  
> Chacun voit midi à sa porte - Everyone sees noon at his doorstep (A relativly common French saying)  
> Pouvez-vous pas voir ça - Can you not see that  
> Garde du corps - Bodyguard 
> 
> Elven
> 
> Shemlen - Quickling or Quick Children  
> Ma melava halani - You Helped me  
> Melana en athim las enaste - Now let humility grant favour  
> Fenharel - The Dread Wolf  
> Ma nuva' dirtha Elvish - You may speak Dalish  
> Mah tel'din elvarnas ma vena ma'lethal - But that does not mean that you can track down my clan  
> Vin - True  
> Ma'vhenan ghi'lan em ash viren - Though my heart taught me some of her ways


	5. The Remnants of War Linger in the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dune and Cassandra struggle to find common ground while Varric watches the garbage fire from afar.

Dune was back in her cabin curled up under her desk, arms wrapped around legs with her face buried in knees. Tears were silently seeping into her hose as she took in laboured breaths. It had made sense at the time to agree, to demand to be informed and to stay but now. She missed her clan, she missed her home and she was afraid. She wanted to be spending her time darting through the Planasene's Forest, chasing after wild goats. She longed for the sight of the Green Dale's dragons dancing in the sun as they reunited after years of migration. She hadn't seen her sister in who knows how long and Dhea was often on her mind. The young First was learning quickly and getting close to surpassing the single-minded Deshy. The elf sobbed as she remembered her sister comforting her after Asha had dismissed her proposal claiming that they could never be truly bonded. The speech Dhea had given that promised once she was Keeper things would change, allowing for anyone to marry without risking exile brought Dune back from the brink. Little San had been overjoyed by the news, the boy had a crush on a caravan runner's son, he had spent all the next day weaving flower crowns and singing songs of cherished love, the number of feathers braided into his hair increasing with each passing candle mark.

She wondered what had happened to them, to her family and was rewarded for her efforts as a familiar ache filled her head. If she tried to remember the recent past a stabbing pain would work its way into her skull and nestle itself right behind her eyes. Another shudder shook the small elf's frame as she tried to suppress her inner turmoil. Though before Dune could sink farther into her melancholic thoughts a loud squawk sounded from over by the window, she jumped accidentally smashing the top of her head into the underside of the desk. Dune cursed as she ducked out of her makeshift cave, hand tangled in her hair as she tried to sooth the newly forming bump, and spotted a relatively large cage placed on the floor next to a bookshelf. She crawled from beneath her shelter and approached the tiny prison, a bundle of feathers was perched on a small swing hanging from the structure's roof. The clump twitched and shifted revealing a relatively ratty looking raven, it croaked at her and Dune couldn't help but smile as she wiped away still wet tears.

"Hey buddy," she cooed. "When did yeah get here?" Dune could have sworn that there wasn't a cage in her room when she had returned, though to be fair she had been in quite the rush. Darting through alleys and slipping into her window only to chuck the Spymasters' provided correspondence at her desk. The elf had managed to grab a quilt from her bed and climb beneath the table before breaking down.

She unlocked the cage, the bird stared at her briefly before hopping forward and fluttering to the ground outside its enclosure. It looked up at her with little black eyes before puffing out it's chest and croaking once more, Dune chuckled.

"You're like me," she said while holding out her arm for the bird to perch. "A little rusty but still good, yeah?" The bird squawked in agreement as it settled on Dune's forearm. She scratched the creature's head and it affectionately nibbled at her fingers. "You need a name," she stated as the bird continued to preen her. "How about Da'Mis?" The bird pecked at her hand and she chuckled. "I know not great, but Little Blade suits you and besides," she scratched the bird's chin once more and it cooed in response. "Then I can call you Damn and no one will know why." The bird chattered before fluttering up to her shoulder and nestling into her scarf, "I'll take that as a yes?"

Dune stood, fully intent on getting through some of the Nightingale's letters before having to depart for the Hinterlands, though as she glanced around the shack something seemed off. Her sword was absent once again, Dune made sure to search the cabin high and low before cursing out the elven Mage and stalking off towards his domain. She bet that the irritating man had expected her to come storming into his shack, though she doubted that even he could have predicted a very large raven bursting through the window and heading straight for his eyes.

 

\---

 

The Seeker had just finished securing a hastily made sheath to her war horse's saddle, it was not pretty but it should hold the Herald's blade for a time. Cassandra tugged on the strap once more and gave the makeshift scabbard itself a good pull, her massive black stallion snorted and dug at the ground with a hoof.

“Sorry,” she mumbled before rubbing the stead's neck with her free hand.

“Do you believe that thing will last?” Leliana asked.

“If it does not, I have no doubt that the Herald will insist on walking.”

“Probably,” the Seeker could hear the smirk in her friend's voice. “I take it that she's riding with you?”

“Most likely,” Cassandra sighed as rubbed her face. “I am her bodyguard, after all.”

“As much as you dislike being so,” the Spymaster stated as she placed a gloved hand onto Cassandra's back. “You were the best candidate.”

“I know I just,” the Seeker turned and looked down at her friend. “She despises me.”

“Are you so sure? Last I checked hatred tended to prevent people from defending one another.”

"What are you-"

"Remember Rodrick? Because I do," Leliana's smirk grew. "If I recall correctly, a relatively agitated woman threw herself at the Chancellor simply because he had the nerve to insult, 'one of the best warriors' she had ever seen."

"I had forgotten," the image of the snarling elf trying to climb across a table at a terrified bureaucrat flashed to the forefront of her mind. "Maybe there is some hope-"

Their conversation was cut short by a loud succession of shouts. Cassandra and the Sister shot each other a look before making their way back into Haven proper. It did not take them long to find a large crowd of people gathered just past the tavern. The Seeker began to push through the mass, as the Leliana vanished, and could just make out some of the argument over the bystander's mutterings.

"Ma banal las halamshir mar vhen," cried the voice of a familiar Mage. "Ma eolasa tel'din Sal'ha ma ema esha'lin."

"I'm the fucking child?" Came the angry reply of none other than the Herald, "yet you're the one who refuses to argue in a way that allows for witnesses."

"Shemlen i telithal-"

"I don't see no blind, coward-"

"What is going on here?" Casandra demanded as she finally shouldered enough people out of the way to arrive at the gathering's centre. Dune and Solas stood before her, close to ten paces between them. The Herald's massive blade was embedded into the ground at her feet, hands arms and shoulders were being slowly entangled in serpent-like bramble, an agitated raven resting on a post next to her emitting an off-putting choking sound. The small warrior herself appeared to no worse for wear, as for Solas he was covered in mostly shallow scratches and holding a hand over his right eye. Both elves had their ears drawn back and turned to face her upon arrival "Well?"

"He started it," Dune said while glaring at the other elf. "He stole my blade-"

"How can I steal something that does not belong to you?"

"Ok then smart guy, if it ain't mine then whose?"

"Dar'misaan Uralas!"

"Dead men don't need no fucking blades."

"That is not for you to decide-"

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"You ignore the past," Solas cried while raising an accusatory finger. "You pretend that the Empire of old never existed and you bare markings that you do not understand!"

"I don't 'ignore the past'," Dune stated calmly. "I just don't dwell on it. Yes, elves once had a kingdom, but that hasn't been the state of things for a very long time. As for my vallaslin, I think I know more about the markings on my body than yeah ever could."

"That is presumptuous-"

"Is it? Then what do they mean oh great and knowledgeable master of existence."

"That is not for me to say."

"Really," Dune raised a brow. "So you steal my belongings and then when I ask for an explanation, which I'm very much in my right to do, you flat out refuse?"

"The truth is not for ones who do not listen."

"But I'm standing here ready to listen. You're the one who's denying me the supposed truth."

"You lie," Solas snarled. "All you care about is proving that you are something you could never be! You wish to be shem!"

"And yeah wish to be a denizen of the Creators, and are driven mad by the concept of someone disagreeing with your single-minded viewpoint."

"That is not-"

"Enough," Cassandra stepped between the two feuding elves. "You are doing nothing but talking in circles. Go finish packing. Both. Of. You. We leave in a candle mark." The muttering began to recede as the crowd started to disperse, Dune marched off in the direction of her cabin, sword over one shoulder and bird perched on the other. Solas frowned before making his way to the Healers Hut, Leliana slipping past him through the shadows. The Seeker sighed, this was going to be a long trip.

 

\---

 

For two days the tension in their travelling party was almost suffocating at the best of times, though thankfully Dune had not complained when told to ride with Cassandra and the Seeker found herself thanking the Maker for small miracles. The Herald was quiet, more so than she had ever been around the taller warrior. Even when the elf had shown caution towards Cassandra she had still kept up conversation with the dwarf, but now the small warrior sat in front of her as they rode in silence. The Seeker had much preferred the other woman's quick tongue and bitter attitude to this ever-present nothing, she had debated asking Dune multiple times why she was refusing to speak, but could not find a way to safely approach the topic.

Solas and the Herald avoided one another like the plague and the first night at camp was almost comical, with Dune plopping herself down on a stone located by the tents and the Mage setting up shop by the cooking pot. Neither acknowledging the other's presence. Varric had shot Cassandra a concerned look and she shrugged in response, what exactly was she supposed to do? Scold them? They were allowed to dislike each other and nothing she said would change that. In fact, she believed that broaching the topic would only make things worse. Eventually, the stalemate between her elven comrades had worn her down and she retired for the evening with the dwarf volunteering to take first watch.

The Seeker had managed to finish caring for her equipment and tucking beneath her bedroll's thin sheets before Dune entered. She tried to ignore her companion as the woman stripped out of the leather tunic, a thick black high collard jumper laid beneath a good choice for descending the mountain. Cassandra glanced away from the Herald and forced her eyes upon the book in hand, Tales of The Broken Hearted, a lovely read if one was not afraid to peruse the stories of unrequited, cursed or failed love. She adjusted her pillow before raising the book above her head, finally settling in. The soft creak of the Herald oiling leather and eventual light grind of a wet stone against the warrior's blade helped ease some of the tension that had gathered between her shoulders. It was not long before Cassandra found her eyes drifting over the same sentence and her arms slowly descending from their position above her head to hovering across her stomach. She was about to call it a night and made to dog-ear one of the pages, only for a blue white and black feather to drift into her view.

"Don't fold the pages," it was the first thing Dune had said since leaving Haven. "They'll wear out and snap off," Cassandra mumbled her thanks before grabbing the feather and inspecting it, she ran a finger along the plumage causing it to ruffle. She placed it between her pages and closed her book before turning over onto her side.

"Good night, Herald," there was a sigh and a pause from her tent-mate.

"May the Fade treat yeah kindly," replied the elf, raspy tone oddly comforting.

The next day was back to silence, though Cassandra felt less tension from the elves as they finished their trek down the mountains and travelled towards open fields. Varric must have noticed the slight shift as well as he had become far more talkative. He chatted ideally, occasionally bringing up someone's name as if to assure that he was not speaking to just himself. The Seeker would grunt when addressed and the Herald let out the occasional chuckle, the Mage remained quiet. That night at camp Dune no longer hid in one corner while Solas lurked in the other, she travelled to and fro occasionally weaving feathers into messy hair some red and black though most blue. When it was time for first watch the Herald sat down and began tending to her gear with a smile and a promise to wake the Seeker in four candle marks oh so. Cassandra had chosen then to retire, though she found it much harder to drift off without the presence of another. The Seeker scowled, travelling with Leliana and sharing a room with both her friend and the Ambassador had spoiled her, now she was having trouble sleeping when on her own. She eventually slammed her book shut and fell into a rather fitful sleep. Rising way to soon, she spent her own watch exhausted. The Seeker was so tired the next day that when Dune had asked her a question she needed it to be repeated three times before she could muster a response.

“How far are the Hinterlands?”

“From this point? Usually two days but,” The Seeker gestured to the white mare carrying the dwarf and Mage. “Estelle is not designed for such hard labour, so we will need to rest more frequently, making it closer to three.”

“Estelle?”

“It means star,” The Herald scrunched up her face. “Don't look at me like that, she's Leliana's stead.”

“I'm riding Nightingale's horse?”

“Whose horse did you think it was?”

"I don't know Seeker, but defiantly not the most terrifying woman's... no person's in Haven," Varric said as Solas' ears drooped back while he seemingly loosened his grip on the reigns.

"The Inquisition has very few mounts meant for long distance riding and most were already commandeered by Leliana's scouts."

"If that's the Sister's horse," Dune asked. "who's this one? Cullen's?"

"No," Cassandra snorted. "He is mine."

"Really? What's his name?"

"He does not have one."

"What? Why not?"

"No point in getting attached, we are at war and someone else will need him eventually."

"Oh..." Dune frowned and undoubtedly would have drifted back into silence if not for Varric's influence, the two began to chat and sling friendly insults at one another. Even the Mage's scowl lessened.

That night at camp when Cassandra was reading her book and the Herald came in later, cheeks flushed from wine the dwarf had shared, she realized that being more open with the elf might actually get her somewhere.

“Caspar.”

“What?”

“Caspar,” Cassandra lowered her book and glanced over at her tent-mate. “That is his name.” Dune's brow forwarded before shooting into her mane.

“Oh!”

“What about you?”

“I don't have a horse.”

“True, but you do have a bird.”

“Fair enough,” Dune paused for a moment before going back to oiling her leathers. “Damn.”

“Damn?”

“Yeah, Damn and Dune.” Cassandra chuckled, before returning to her book. The next three days passed like that the two making polite conversation before retiring, the Herald and Varric messing with each other while on the road. It felt peaceful and the Seeker found herself almost forgetting that there was a war, at least that was until she overstepped.

 

\---

 

Dune was regretting her life choices as she cut down rogue Templar number four, her blade passing through limbs and torso easily. You'd think that the knife wielders would have left her alone after the first three tried to use a warrior's assumed slowness to their advantage, only to be cut to pieces in seconds. Dune blew hair out of her face, pulled her hand from a nest of wooden snakes and dragged her arm across her forehead smearing blood and dirt in the process. A bolt of ice whizzed towards her only to be shattered against a heavy shield as the Seeker stepped between her and a Mage's spell.

"Pay attention," the older woman spat before charging forward. Slamming into the attacker shield first and flinging them a good six feet. Dune curled her lip and charged back into the fray slicing through mercenaries that were trying their hand at surrounding Varric. Shit had gone back to tense between her and Cassandra relatively quickly, it started innocent enough with tiny questions about certain things only to get far too personal. Dune cringed as she thrust her blade into a man's stomach, effectively gutting him. There had been a fight, it was loud as the two screamed at one another about courtesy and secrets. The Seeker stating that she did not wish to speak of her own family, but constantly demanding that Dune do so. It wasn't until Varric stepped in and pointed out the fairness, or lack thereof, that Cassandra had finally left well enough alone. Dune cut another three down before pausing to asses who else needed her help. This whole trip had been uncomfortable from the start, things kicked off with a fight between her and Solas only to move to her having to ride in front of the Seeker as her arms couldn't find a secure enough hand-hold on the other woman's armour, then there was her recent argument with the taller warrior. Mother Giselle refusing to call her anything but the Herald of Andraste, getting dirty looks from both Cassandra and Solas as she ignored the people at the Cross Road's pleas for help and finally trudging through a mud-soaked and corpse-littered battlefield in order to make it to the Horse Master's farm. Dune ducked forward and ran the last enemy threw from behind, the man died before he even knew what had hit him.

“Is... everyone... alright...?”

“I appear no worse for ware-”

“I, am fine.”

“Yeah, thanks to you Jay-bird, I thought I was nug shit when the merc's decided to focus on me.”

“I'm... surprised... that they... even noticed yeah...”

“I am an extraordinary rogue."

"Yeah got... extraordinary... right..." Dune hefted her blade and shot him a grin. "Extraordinarily... short..."

"Oh someone thinks their funny."

"I don't... think-"

"That tracks." She glared at the rogue and stuck out her tongue as he laughed, the Seeker marched passed, face stern and strides purposeful. Dune rolled her eyes, enticing another series of chuckles from Varric, before following.

 

\---

Dune let out a gasp when pain flared from her spine as a living embodiment of sadness threw her against the stony river bank. Her head hit the ground with a thud and her vision blurred as she tried to push herself into a sitting position, she felt bile rise in her throat as wounded hands tried to find a perch. She slipped, on blood or water, she couldn't tell and fell forward with a gasp. She managed to roll onto her back and her vision went black for a moment. When she raised her hand to the blurry green shape that was the Rift, her arm jolted as a stringy jet of unstable magic connected her and the dimensional hole together. All Dune could do was groan as she tugged the tear closed. She collapsed back and her head rolled to the side.

"Oh shit," Varric exclaimed. "Chuckles get over here."

"I am currently occupied," there was splashing and what sounded like something heavy and metal being slowly dragged across stone.

"Shit the Seeker... shit this is bad," Dune moaned as Varric moved her off the bank and draped her arm over his shoulder. "Andraste's ass you're heavier than you look Jay-bird."

"Camp is not far, we should be able to get back without any interference." The last thing that Dune heard was Varric saying something about wolves and Solas dismissing his point before fully falling unconscious.

She managed to come too before Solas could get his hands on her throat, she slapped his fingers away and sat up with a groan.

"You are not fully healed-"

"Last I fucking checked, the Despair Demon didn't grab me by the neck."

"I was just-"

"Save it," she snapped. "I don't have patience for your lies, hand me a potion." The mage frowned, but did as he was told, Dune glared at him until he left before throwing her head back and downing the flask's contents. She grimaced at the liquid's off-putting stale flavour and set the empty vial down just before the convulsions began. Her spine twisted, back arching and arms snapping out at odd angels while her bruised ribs and broken bones fused themselves back together. She screwed her eyes shut and bared her teeth as her throat began to burn, the unfix-able flesh pulsating with a confused heat, the potion desperately trying to force a mending that would not take. Dune hunched forward and wrapped her hands around her neck. The pain would pass soon, health potions were quick to take effect just straining as the user felt all of the healing process in one go. Her hands fell to her knees and she gasped for breath the burn receding. Sweat clung to her skin making her shiver, the tent flap was pulled back and Dune met the Seeker's gaze.

"I see that you chose to take a potion," Casandra stated as she made her way into their shared tent. "I did as well, we cannot afford for our only Mage to be out of commission." The Seeker sat down on the tent's other bedroll and offered Dune a drink from her waterskin.

"Wasn't gonna... let him lay his... hands on me," she stated before snatching the offered canteen and chugging half of it in a desperate attempt to soothe her throat. "Damn..." Dune coughed.

"Potions are not very pleasant."

"Yeah can say that... again," she passed the water-skin back. "I much prefer... spiritual, but... yeah know..." she shrugged.

"C'est la vie."

"What?"

"It's an Orlesian saying," Cassandra blushed slightly and scratched the back of her head. "it roughly translates to 'that's life'..."

"Hmm," Dune cracked her back and rolled her shoulders. "Why are yeah here... Cassandra?"

"I," the Seeker sighed. "Wanted to apologize for earlier. Varric was right, how I was behaving was both disrespectful and inappropriate." She glanced at the elf, "I need to remember that you joined the Inquisition willingly and what secrets you choose to keep, are yours, to begin with."

"Thanks," Dune pause and looked away, tugging at her hair. "I should... apologize too-"

"You don't-"

"No, I do," she sighed. "You mentioning... that you didn't... wanna talk about your... brother should've been... warning enough but... I choose to attack the... man's integrity... I'm sorry that... was... really fucked up..."

"It was." The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment before Cassandra held out her hand. "Truce?"

"Truce, after all... we don't wanna make... this bodyguard... thing more awkward... then it needs be..."

"To be fair, if you were not so reckless Leliana would have never have suggested it."

"When have I... ever," Dune demanded handheld to her chest in mock scandal. "Been reckless."

“You just... I,” the Seeker glared at her. “Not two candle marks ago you leapt onto the back of a bear!”

“It was attacking Solas-”

“You don't even like Solas!”

“What would make yeah... say that?”

“Yesterday you spit in his tea!”

"That was friendly spit!"

"As supposed to what?"

"Non-friendly spit?"

"Non-friendly?"

"Yeah, the opposite of friend."

"Do you mean enemy?"

"No, I know what I meant... and it was non-friend," the two stared at one another before breaking out in matching grins and bursting out laughing. Outside their tent, a Storyteller smiled while a lone wolf dumped out the rest of his tea.

 

\---

 

Varric wondered how Jay-Bird was still going, she had snuck back into camp very late the previous night with dirt and dried blood clinging to her hands. The woman had half-heatedly scrubbed her arms clean before stumbling into her shared tent. Lucky for her, even sleep deprived, Dune was somewhat stealthy so she didn't wake the Seeker upon entry.

Speaking of his former captor, the woman had them all up at the crack of dawn to deal with a Rift on the edge of the farmstead, though this one had been admittedly easier than the last by the waterfall. A few terrors here a shade there nothing to worry about. The conversation with Dennet after was short and blunt and he could tell that Jay liked the guy already. He gave them his reasons for not sending a hundred horses through a war zone and told them what he needed prior to being able to aide the Inquisition. Though he had been able to gift the party with two more mounts a pony, which Varric was incredibly grateful for as he could actually get on the sodding thing without needing a step ladder, and one of his finest steads for the Herald of Andraste herself. Which Dennet, and everyone else in the farm, had then spent the past few candle marks watching Dune fall off of over and over again.

There was a shout, a yelp and a thud. The Storyteller glanced over to behold the aftermath of Dune's twentieth failed attempt at mounting. Jay-Bird was struggling to get back to her feet as the Seeker shook her head and covered her face. Those two had been at it since noon, changed into once-clean riding gear that was now coated in a layer of dust as the elf's bodyguard tried to teach her how to ride. His laugh caused them both to send him a glare, Dune scooped up a stone and tossed it in his direction. Though her throw went wide after the horse, whom she had been attempting to ride, butted his head into her back and shoved her face first into the dirt. Even Chuckles smirked when the dragonslayer grabbed Jay's collar and yanked her back to her feet.

"I told you," the taller woman began. "You must mount from the left side, not the right."

"We mounted from the right back at Haven."

"No, I mounted from the right and lifted you into the saddle. You wanted to learn I offered to teach, so watch and listen." Dune huffed and crossed her arms as the Seeker clicked her tongue and called over the war horse that had been grazing by the fence. The dragonslayer grabbed the beast's reins as he came to her and looked over at her student expectantly. Jay-bird copied the action with her own stead, the Seeker then mounted once more and took the black beauty into a canter around the small training area. Jay copied the other woman's movements and placed her foot into the stirrup, it looked like she was gonna actually make it this time, at least she would have if her horse hadn't moved before the elf could swing over. It took off after the Seeker's stead at a leisurely pace, but the movement was all it needed to throw Jay off balance. Her foot got caught in the stirrup as she fell back and was promptly dragged behind her horse. The Seeker spotted what had happened immediately, dismounted and grabbed Dune's stead by the reins effectively stopping it and giving the earthbound woman a chance to escape. Once freed Jay-Bird shook her head as her ears twitched erratically, threw up her hands and began to make her way back to the river camp, apparently being dragged across the ground was cause to call it quits.

 

\---

 

It had taken them two days to get anywhere in regards to the Herald's riding, the elf was truly unequipped for such a thing and the learning process was slow and painful. At least now Dune knew enough to travel via her own stead, an ambitious Fereldan Forder that reminded Casandra of his reckless owner. The Seeker shook her head before diving beneath Lake Luthias' water's as she began her morning swim. The previous days training had left the warrior coated in a layer of dust and smelling of horse and since the party had recently closed a Rift in the area it was voted that they stop there for the night and take much-needed baths. Cassandra broke the surface and began to make laps around the lake, it reminded her of when she was younger. Swimming had always been one of her favoured passed times as it was a good way to exercise and cool off. Though once she was officially under Divine Beatrix's employment she had to give up the activity as the Divine's Right Hand being found naked in the Orlesian countryside would have caused quite the scandal. She shook her head once more and immersed herself fully into the task at hand, a candle mark and a half later the Seeker emerged from the lake, dried off and donned fresh clothing before heading back to camp, a towel draped over her shoulders and braid yet to be pinned up.

She had only just entered the makeshift base's perimeter when a blur of black and blue rushed past charging towards the lake, Cassandra caught herself on a nearby tree as the tiny Dalish woman uttered a hasty apology without breaking her stride.

"Jay's been itching to get in the water ever since she figured out where you had run off too, Seeker," Varric said.

"Really?" She asked, "Then why not join me?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "She mentioned something about privacy being hard to come by where she's from. Though I like to think that she was afraid seeing you in the nude might leave her blind." Cassandra snorted and rolled her eyes before making her way over too the nearby pile of letters, she began shuffling through. Most correspondences were for the Herald about the Inquisition's progress. She set those aside, there was one for Varric without a return address, she tossed that at the dwarf and he yelped when the enveloped smacked him square in the face. The Seeker turned before he could spot her smirk, more notes for Dune a few proposals addressed to herself, which she immediately tossed into the fire, apparently being labelled a heretic by the Chantry was not taking her off every lord's list of potential daughter in laws. Cassandra was about to toss all of the remaining letters into the flames when one caught her attention, it was thinner than the rest and sealed with a very familiar raven stamp pressed into purple wax. The seeker frowned before breaking the seal, the elegant script of her friend's hand greeted her:

Dearest Cassandra,

I hope that this letter reaches you in good health.

I have managed to get in contact with an old friend and he has agreed to meet about our cause in a private setting. Until I have finished authenticating said assembly, you must remain in the Hinterlands. It should only take about fourteen days to do so. Help the people and build a name for the Inquisition while you are there. My little birds will be arriving in a weeks time with supplies, they will also be delivering your next set of orders. 

This letter is for your eyes alone, read it twice before burning it. 

Andraste guide you, 

N.

P.S I have received word that a Warden going by the name of Blackwall may be in the area if you have the time to investigate I would appreciate it immensely.

"What's with the face?" The Seeker looked up from her note, fire met ice as dark wet hair was idly dried.

"We have just received orders," Cassandra replied as she tossed the missive into the fire. "We have been instructed to remain in the Hinterlands for the next two weeks." Her party members let out a symphony of groans and Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose. "Leliana has made contact with a potential ally, we need to wait on news from her before moving out."

"Fine," Dune muttered. "But, I'm gonna complain the whole time.

"I would expect," the Seeker sighed. "Nothing less," Dune grumbled before stalking over and grabbing Varric's crossbow, she chucked the heavy thing at the dwarf knocking him over.

"Come on short stuff," the Herald said. "We still got some daylight, might as well get some huntin' done."

"Andraste's ass! Why do you people keep throwing shit at me?" Varric wheezed as he heaved himself back to his feet. "Next time don't be so rough with Bianca, she prefers a gentler touch." He said while smoothing out his chest hair.

Then, unfortunately," Dune grabbed her blade and marched over towards The Seeker. "She isn't the woman for me."

"Oh?"

"I like my woman," the Herald started as she set her sword down next to Cassandra. "to be able to give as good as they get." The elf glanced over at the Seeker, "do yeah mind keeping an eye on Baxter for me? I hear that apostates have mighty sticky fingers." Solas glared at the back of Dune's head as Cassandra agreed, "Just try not to touch it, damn thing has a tendency to stab people."

"We going Jay or are there more babysitting instructions?"

"Hang on," the Herald stated as she scooped up one of the scouts bows and a quiver of arrows before the soldier could notice. "Has anyone ever told you that patience is key?"

"That's rich coming from you, do you even know how to use one of those things."

“I'm Dalish-”

“That doesn't mean shit, Daisy couldn't hit the broad side of a Qunari.”

“Whose Daisy?”

“Now that's a long story, and it starts in a way you wouldn't expect, with a dragon trapped in a necklace...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all,
> 
> So I'm gonna be aiming for at least one chapter a week, though sometimes there might be two if I've had a good writing streak. This one was harder for me to push out, I feel like what happens during this chapter was necessary, but I've been far more interested in the one after.
> 
> Feedback is always welcome,
> 
> IAAWIP
> 
> P.S (Language)
> 
> Elven
> 
> Ma banal las halamshir mar vhen - You do nothing to further your people  
> Sal'ha - Old Soul  
> Ma eolasa tel'din Sal'ha ma ema esha'lin - You know not of the forces that you play with child (Roughly)  
> Shemlen i telithal - Quick children and the blind  
> Dar'misaan Uralas - Sword keepers  
> Vallaslin - Dalish tattoos  
> Shem - Quick Child (A slur used often to describe humans)


	6. Tales of Tel'Din'Dia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric tries to distract himself by doing something stupid, Solas learns about the crown, Cassandra deals with an unknown variable and Dune gets laid.
> 
> There is sex in this chapter, it is relatively descriptive, this is your one and only warning.

Cassandra had received Leliana's letter at dawn, but due to a bandit ambush and a bear in their supplies, there was no time to read it. Now, with her and Blackwall treating their gear and Dune and Varric off gathering elf root, she had the chance. Breaking the seal she glanced at the small missive, Leliana's hand was slightly off the note must have been hastily written:

Dearest Cassandra,

A trade caravan heading East from Haven will be skirting past the Hinterlands tomorrow evening, offer to join as a small mercenary band. Do not reveal who you are and, I cannot stress this enough, keep the Herald's hand hidden. I am sure that those who require fake names will be able to come up with them, as for you, most know you only as Seeker Pentaghast so Cassandra should be fine.

Keep an eye out for a fox in the chicken coop.

Read this letter twice and then burn it.

N.

The Seeker sighed as she tossed the missive into the flames and went about adjusting her supplied armour, banded iron and chain-mail were not what she was used to and the lighter material made her feel exposed. She tugged at the straps as Blackwall chuckled the man, having newly joined the Inquisition, did not require a disguise unlike everyone else and was allowed to sport his grey warden arms and armour. Cassandra had given up her sword and shield which were replaced with a clunky battle axe that better suited a rather quick-footed elven warrior. Who was forced to wield a bow while her sword of choice was smuggled to where ever they were going via Leliana's network. The Herald had not been pleased with the news, nor with the stiff standard issue light leather coat, she had been forced into and even threatened to kill Scout Harding when the dwarf made for her blade. The Seeker frowned, she wondered what the Sword meant to Dune and contemplated the name Baxter on many occasions. The title did not sound even vaguely Dalish and it came off almost Ferelden, but not quite. The more Cassandra found out about the Herald the more questions she had. As for Varric, the dwarf would be sporting Carta armour and pretending to be an ex-lyrium smuggler, surprisingly he had not taken up a bow but instead chose to hide more knives on his person than the Seeker could count. Solas was supplied torn circle robes and an apprentice staff. He, much like the others, did not appear to be pleased with the arrangement.

They had been prepared for the past few days and started establishing a presence in the more wild side of the Hinterlands as The Message Men, a name that Cassandra found incredibly ridiculousness but unfortunately won the vote. They spent most days killing bandits, the occasional bear and helping people who passed through that had the coin. A fact that almost bothered the Seeker as much as the false group's name. Though she was unable to argue against it, mercenaries were only in it for the money and working for free would draw too much attention. There was a reason why they were in a mostly unoccupied region after all and at least they had been able to help the people of the Cross Roads prior to their disguises arriving, which Dune seemed surprisingly alright with even though she had previously ignored their pleas. The woman was truly a mystery.

“If you keep staring into the fire like that, Lady Seeker,” Blackwall stated as he glided a dark wet stone over his blade. “You'll go blind.”

“That is nothing but a wives tale,” she rolled her eyes.

"There is usually some reason for those tales."

"Maybe," she grunted. "But not that one. Or else I would have lost my sight many times over."

"Do you have a tendency to stare at flames?"

"Stare at flames no, start them," she shrugged. "Yes."

"Should I be keeping an eye out for stray fireballs in the future?" He chuckled.

"Not from me, the Herald on the other hand..."

"The Herald's a Mage?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know," the Seeker narrowed her eyes and lent forward with her hands clasped in front of her face. "She seems to know more... to be aware of more than most."

"You might just be seeing things, Lady Seeker," Blackwall smirked. "It must be all those fires you start, it looks like the flames are ruining your eyes.” Before she could reply Solas came barrelling out of a nearby tent, ears perked and frown etched into his features, the Seeker had forgotten that he was there.

"Something's wrong," he stated while unsheathing his staff. Cassandra was already on her feet, large axe in hand, Blackwall only seconds behind her, the man must not have been used to working with elves. It took a few seconds before the humans were able to pick up on what the elf had heard.

"Is that... screaming?" Asked Blackwall, the Seeker merely grunted as she charged up the steep hill shielding their makeshift camp. She was two thirds away from the crest when the Herald and dwarf came sprinting over it. Well, Dune came sprinting with Varric tucked under her left arm, not unlike a small child. As soon as the elf spotted the Seeker she tossed the rogue who immediately began to roll down the hill towards camp, before running straight at Cassandra dropping to her knees and sliding between the taller warrior's legs. She turned just in time to fire an arrow past the Seeker's cheek and it logged into one of three incredibly large and angry bears. Cassandra sighed, next time the Herald wanted to wander off and pick flowers she would have to go with her.

 

\---

Varric,

How's the chest hair?

We've found Sweetness and got her home. Big Girl's keeping an eye on the pair, the Wardens are fucky and she's afraid you know who might do something reckless. 

Town's still paint free,

R.

P.S Tell Bianca that I'm always here if she ever craves a woman's touch.

Varric sighed as he re-read the Admiral's letter, damn thing was vague on purpose they both knew that Nightingale would be checking all of his messages. There might be a hole in the sky, but the Inquisition still seemed to think that Hawke had the ability to solve the world's problems. The woman had been through enough already, they'd have to go through him and a bunch of loyal idiots before they would get their hands on her. She may have been the Champion, but she was also a sister, a friend, a caretaker and a wife seemingly to the shag-grin of everyone else. He glanced up from the tiny strip of paper and spotted the Seeker in the process of being accosted by one of Caravan Tel'Din'Dia's official guards or the Cock Boys as Jay-Bird had dubbed them. According to the elf, it was their fault for sticking a bunch of Roosters all over their gear. He couldn't help but smirk, it was nice seeing the woman who founded the Hawke manhunt having to put up with some ass-hole and his superiority complex. The greasy man in ill-fitting armour jabbed the Dragon Slayer in the chest and the woman's relatively irritated expression moved to that of borderline murderous. Maybe he should step in, after all, it'd be just priceless if the Seeker owed him one. Though at this point that tally was probably closer to twenty.

He stood and made his way towards the two. The man reached up and brushed tangled brown hair from his face only to once again jab the Seeker. Varric drew a dagger and caught the glint of something metal from his left. He spotted Chuckles leaning against his staff, a jingle to his right told him all he needed to know about Hero's location and a slight shift in the shadows atop of a wagon made him aware that Jay was nearby as well. The Storyteller smirked, it didn't matter if these people liked each other they were sure as shit not about to let some poor excuse for a warrior get away with man-handling one of their own.

"Scruffy," he called as he approached Cock Boy arms outstretched and blades spinning. "Is there a problem?"

"Problem! 'Isht there a problem' he says... course there'sht a problem," the man exclaimed, air whistling past gaps in his teeth. "Your people shigned on to protect thisht train and yet I shee yeah doing absholutely nothing. An' don't call me Shtcruffy!"

"Really? Because last I checked my people were constantly keeping an eye out for potential threats."

"Lishten here," Scruffy stepped towards Varric only for the Dragon Slayer's hand to clamp down on his shoulder. He turned to shoot her a glare but wasn't able to keep himself from flinching. Varric totally understood, the tall warrior had quite the grip. "Your people were hired to ward off banditsh and shcout for pathsht not to shit on their asses and get fat off of othersht hard-earned food!"

"You see Scruffy," the greasy man glared. "I'm inclined to disagree with you, as those were not the orders given to us by Lady Lelen." Varric twirled his knives as a vein pulsed in Cock Boy's neck. "She said that she wanted us to keep an eye out on the people, as in those within this little operation. As for food," Varric shrugged. "Jay hunts what rations we don't pay for."

"That ain't true," Scruffy stamped his foot. "I shaw your people eatin' shtweet cakesh!"

"What food the merchants give us as thanks for fending off your goons is theirs to give."

"What are you talkin'-"

"Don't play dumb," Varric tossed a dagger into the air and caught it before he placed the blade against Cock Boy's throat. The burly warden grabbed onto greasy man's other shoulder, as an arrow whizzed by the guard's cheek, cutting a shallow gash across his face, before embedding itself into the ground at Varric's feet. Electricity danced in the air and Scruffy's hair stood on end as Chuckle's joined in. "Your buddies have been charging the merchants a protection fee. Threatening to break their shit and their children if they don't pay. Now personally, I don't care much for merchants, but threatening kids crosses a line that the Message Men won't allow." It took everything for him to swallow back the laugh that built in his throat at the Seeker's glare. "So how about this, you go and tell your boss that we're either gonna be provided incentive to keep quiet or we'll head straight to the Lady of the house and report exactly what's going on, deal?" The greasy man nodded as he swallowed, the Storyteller waved his hand and the two warriors backed off. "Good," Varric slapped Cock Boy on the back. "Run along now." He did chuckle when the frightened dirty man scrambled off, tripping on his own feet and knocking over a barrel spilling pickles everywhere. When he turned back to their little group the Seeker had already wandered off, probably to find Jay-Bird as the elf had been running free since they joined up with the Caravan Train.

"That," the remaining warrior said. "Is going to be a problem later."

"Maker I hope so, I'm bored out of my mind."

"You're not bored, you're worried."

"What makes you say that, Hero?"

"That little strip of paper you keep in your glove, I've seen you pull it out about six times today alone."

"How about instead of getting personal we discuss something else?"

"Like how we're going to have to fight an entire Train's worth of mercenaries?"

"Exactly."

"Missing that bow of yours?"

"Like a Templar misses his lyrium," the burly warden let out a barking laugh. The two of them walked in easy silence as they navigated around tents and wagons. He looked over at Hero and followed the other man's gaze. Off to the right was Jay-Bird and the Seeker, Dune had climbed up onto a stack of crates and was in the process of re-stringing her bow while waving her hands around with ears perked up. If he had to guess the elf was looking forward to the coming fight just as much as he was. The Dragon Slayer was leaning against a tree next to her, occasionally nodding her head or making a slight comment, though the taller warrior's eyes never drifted far from the people walking by.

"So what do thinks the story with them?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

"You 'don't know'? You're the Storyteller."

“Doesn't mean I know the ending to every story, just the beginning.”

“So what's the start?”

“From what Jay-Bird's said, two broken noses and a basket full of threats.”

“Ahh,” the man nodded sagely. “Must be love.” Now it was Varric's turn to laugh.

 

\---

 

Paws kicked up leaves and dirt as they glided across the ground through the Southron Hills, the Lone Wolf could feel the wind slip through his fur as he made quick turns around oncoming brush and the occasional tree. The hills were vast and provided the perfect cover for his mortal indulgence. He never felt freer than when flesh shifted to fur. This form suited him more than his current one, large grey and intimidating he doubted anyone would have the audacity to back talk him while he bared his teeth. It would be much more simple if he could throw his authority around, but he needed to keep it hidden. No use in giving more information, to those he travelled with, then needed.

The wind shifted and the Lone Wolf caught the scent of something familiar, one of his pack was nearby, odd as he had given them the direct order to clear out of such lands. He changed his course and made to approach the creature in question. Bolting across hills so quickly that even the sharpest-eyed hunter might mistake him for a shadow. It did not take long for him to find his messenger, as the young wolf had been lazily sunning itself not far from where he prowled. Upon approaching the beast raised it's head and wagged it's tail when it stood and made it's way to him the Lone Wolf allowed it to lick his muzzle before releasing a warning growl. Either the young one was here for a reason or directly disobeying orders and he needed to know which it was immediately.

The wolf sheepishly ducked it's head before sitting down, with a chuff and some concentration the Lone Wolf sought out what the other wished to show him. It did not take long for him to enter his companion's mind. Most memories were of the journey there, the game hunted and others of the pack encountered. The Lone Wolf shoved such thoughts to the side and dug deeper, he found himself standing in a large bustling city dirt brown in colour, with mud, grease and garbage plastering the fur to his body. He slunk through alleyways as he continued to do his job trying to keep hidden while gathering information.

"Hey you," an authoritative voice called from behind the wolf. The creature whipped his head around and was meant with the imposing form of a relatively built human, hair kept in blond spikes, ears slightly pointed and two large mabari war hounds standing at his feet. Though that was not what caused the wolf to crouch low, pin his ears to his head and tuck in his tail. The Doglord who stood before him looked almost no different from any other half-breed, but the wolf just caught slight abnormalities. The man's blue eye's held slitted pupils, his canines were longer and more curved than they should have been and his sent. He smelt like the wolf's own kind though slightly off, bitter, acidic, cursed. "Shew get going leave." The man began waving his hands at the wolf who took the invitation and scattered. He glanced back only once before exiting the city proper, the wolf-man had left the alleyway and was being swarmed by others of his kind in metal and fancy over furs. The wolf did not know much, but he was able to understand that his Master needed to be informed.

The Lone Wolf pulled himself from the other's mind as soon as he had the information needed. He looked down at the tired creature before him and licked it back. Acknowledging that it did well, the wolf barked once before walking off in the direction of The Bannorn, a good place to hide with very few human's travelling through. He watched as the beast took it's leave before turning to head back towards those who he had been travelling with. Learning that the King carried a wolf's song in his soul was an unforeseen and interesting development, but one that he would most definitely be able to work around.

 

\---

 

The Seeker had spent the last few days on edge, the dwarf's overstep with the Red Roosters was sure to come back on them eventually and the Herald past her time running around without anyone to watch her. Then there was the fact that Cassandra had yet to figure out what Leliana meant by 'fox in the chicken coop' and how the group spent their days on the road cramped into the back of some iron importer's cart. She smelt of old metal, was coated in a layer of soot and worst of all had nothing to read. Sure she carried her old copy of Tales of the Broken Hearted, but one could only read the same book so many times, no matter how beloved. She had attempted to go through The Chant of Light, but having memorized the text word for word lead to her mind skipping ahead quicker than her hands could flip the damn pages. She had tried searching Tel'Din'Dia for tomes or anyone selling the like but turned up nothing.

The Seeker was about to begin her third lap of the Train when something drew her attention. The taste of relatively old and powerful magic permeated the air, it was fading where she stood, but with an activated third eye still traceable. She glanced around, hunting down a potentially dangerous apostate was not exactly the best way to lie low, though she did not want to leave the Mage wondering. Cassandra ducked and weaved between people and carts alike, not sparing anyone a glance as she neared her target. Pretty soon she was entering the hills a little way off from where the Caravan had decided to set up for the night, she reached for her shield only to curse out the oversized axe strapped to her back. This would have been far easier if she was not undercover. Though before the Seeker could retreat and reassess the situation there was some sort of explosion, she dove to the ground banded mail biting into her flesh uncomfortably as she entered a roll and spun herself around. She landed on a knee and was in the process of drawing her borrowed weapon when she was able to take stock of the situation.

Standing before her was an elderly apostate wearing a dirty yellow tunic and leaning heavily on what appeared to be a burnt tree branch, he was waving one fist at her as if intending to strike. Cassandra knew that underestimating an opponent, especially a Mage, was a mistake so she kept her guard up as she stood but did not draw the axe.

"You are with travellers but do not carry yourself like other's who dredge among forgotten graves." Cassandra narrowed her eyes.

"What-"

"You may have been sent from Them, but how am I to know? Though I'm getting ahead of myself, ask a question and you'll get a question but give an answer and you'll receive the same. Oh, I do so love to trade." Something about the man's odd manner of speech felt familiar to the Seeker.

"You've gone mad."

"That is neither a question nor an answer, are you here to trade or merrily chatter like an incessant boogaloo." The Seeker rolled her eyes before removing her hand from her weapon's hilt and making to walk past, "wait!" She paused and glanced at the man, "You search for something yes? Something to quell your boredom. I might have such a thing."

"How do you know that?" The dragon narrowed her eyes, blood Mages were tricky and she could not simply set the man a flame and blow her cover. If the others had known where she was she might have been able to fend him off until reinforcements arrived, but that was no longer an option.

"That is a question, but I have yet to ask my own. Do you wish to trade or simply steal my secrets for your own?"

"Fine," the Seeker did not wish to remain in this man's company, but if he was truly Maleficarum she needed to know. "Go on ask your question."

"A question for a question... Let's see now, what is your name?"

"You wish to know my name?"

"If I did not I would not have asked the question."

"Cassandra," she grunted.

"Ah I see, it appears that we are in the realm of truths, but a trades a trade. Go on ask your question."

"How do you know that I'm telling the truth?"

"Simple, I've been watching. None pay mind to the eyes of a sparrow when perched on a barrel of brine."

"You can turn into a sparrow?"

"The dragon asked the bird as if such an idea was somehow preposterous. But that is all I will say to one who chooses not to see what sits before them."

"Would you like to ask another question?" She did not know why she was indulging him, maybe for something to do or perhaps it was the vague promise of gaining an escape from the dull travel days.

"May I? Oh yes, I think I might! Hmm... where were you born?"

"Nevarra."

"I suppose that is an answer all be it short, I'll have to be more specific with my next question. Though for now, it is your turn."

"You mentioned that you might have something to 'quell my boredom'-"

"That is not a question-"

"Do you?"

"Aha," the Hermit clapped and hopped from one foot to the other. "The dragon finally asks the right question! Come! Come this way and see what tales lost to time I have hidden from the Divine." The man gestured for her to follow, Cassandra paused glancing back the way she came, she could not just leave the Hermit here without fully knowing what danger he posed. The Seeker sighed before taking off after the oddly limber elderly man. They rounded a few bends before arriving at a plane wagon sat in front of a small dirty tent, mossy stump and fire pit. Cassandra could taste magic leaking from both the stump and the carriage as the apostate lead her to the cart's door. Cautiously she trailed after him, as he hopped up the steps and entered the shack. The door slammed shut behind her and before she could reach for her weapon veil fire lit the cart's interior. From wall to ceiling stood massive shelves lined with well-maintained books and tomes. The spines were pristine and the lettering gold, she took a second and marvelled at what stood before her. "Some are tomes of knowledge, other tales of adventure and a few even sonnets of love, but that is for later this is for now. A question for a question yes?" The Seeker nodded her head dazed. "Good now, what to ask, what to ask? Ah yes, do you have a knowledge of the arcane arts."

"In theory," she began. "But not in practice."

"Hmm, you sound like Them. But if you were Them you would have attacked by now, you are something else something more. Yes, I do believe that you are one of More Than Them. I have never encountered your kind before, but know this if you move I will act and it will end poorly for all in this room. Go on then, it is your turn. Ask away!"

"Are you willing to trade?"

"That depends on what you have."

"I do not know, give me a moment." Cassandra crouched down and removed her pack instantly spotting her coin purse, "Do you have an interest in gold?"<

“What use would I have for such things?”

“Fair enough,” the Seeker continued to rummage, her fingers brushing against a tome, her old copy of the Chant of Light. She pulled the scripture from her bag and presented it to the Hermit. “What about this?”

“Hmm...” he plucked the book from her grasp and flitted through the pages. “I do not care for the Chantry nor it's teachings, but this one is quite old. How long I wonder?”

“Since I joined the See... More Than Them.”

“Aha, so you admit! Though a tale this old holds memories dear, yes a good trade for one from my collection. What do you wish?”

“What do you have?”

“More books than time in the year, is your head filled with fluff? I think not! What do you desire?”

“I uh,” Cassandra glanced down, she had already come this far. “romance...” she mumbled.

“What? Speak up girl I am old and my hearing is waning!”

“Romance.”

"Why not just say so? Now let's see," The man walked over to a random shelf. "Tales of love lost, of it gained, what is worth age... ah here we are," he pulled out a random tome, it appeared rather thin in comparison to the text that she had offered him. "Normal, bland and predictable," he tossed the book at her and she caught it, the text was bound in green and, other than that, was not in the slightest way distinct. When she browsed through the pages nothing stood out to her, "you want something unique or passionate, then offer me something even in trade." She scowled before diving back into her sack and pulling out a hunting knife, the blade itself was simple in design yet sturdy a thoughtful welcome gift from the Ambassador, but she had no use for such a tool.

"What about a knife?"

"A knife? Oh yes, I could use a new knife," he snatched the small thing from her hands. "Aha never before used and clean too, a good blade for good use!" He grabbed a thicker tome from the case, this time with a red cover, "here sturdy and reliable."

"Not passionate or unique?"

"You have yet to give me anything that would warrant passion. What do the More Than Them teach? Clearly not the value of trade." She huffed and set the book aside with the other before continuing to rummage, she was about to grab her copy of Tales of the Broken Hearted, but when she made to pull the thing from the bottom of her satchel, feathers flew everywhere. She sighed, sharing a tent with the Herald often meant that she found feathers or strips of leather mixed in with her things. The very brief conversation she had with Varric about the topic told her that Merrill had often done something similar. Apparently, everyone who followed the Champion would tend to find odd trinkets from the woman's lover tangled among their own belongings. Before the Seeker could scoop the feathers back up the Hermit dived forward and grabbed them with crooked fingers. “Elf feathers! It has been so long! Not since the wolves and trees have I seen such things! Perfect for charms and traps!”

“No those are not-”

“They would very much gift you with a collection so old and full of romance that you would never be able to find anything like it!” Cassandra paused, they were Dune's feathers though the elf had so many tangled in her hair and spread across her companion's pack that she probably would not notice a few hand fulls missing.

“Give me the book.” The Hermit smiled a toothless grin before leaping to his feet and dancing back to the shelf. He retrieved a large tome with a velvety blue cover and elegant Silver lettering crawling up the spine. “Here one of the most passionate books in my collection.” She read the title, Love, A Sapphic Exploration.

“But not unique?”

“Someone is greedy aren't they?” The Seeker quickly packed her bag before standing.

“What would it take for you to trade something one of a kind?”

“Hmm... how about a question?”

“Just a question?”

"Yes for a book, a bit different, but a trade none the less."

"Fine."

"You seem to enjoy romance, so I wonder, have you ever been in love?" That was not the question that she had expected. Cassandra crossed her arms and glared down at the man, who looked unbothered by her revived hostility.

"That is personal-"

"And my tome unique, so which is it?"

"I," she sighed. "Have, it was long ago and short-lived, but-"

"Something you aspire to achieve once again?"

"Perhaps..." Why was she telling him this, these feelings and confessions were personal. Meant for only her, the Maker and that one time Leliana barged into her room back at Val Royeaux with wine.

"Hmm... very well..." he made his way over to a shelf at the other side of the wagon and plucked a deep purple tome from its depths. The book was not particularly thin nor thick and had no markings on its surface. He returned to Cassandra but snatched the text away before she could claim it as her own. "There are three lives hidden within this tale, three that I have encountered and three that you either have met or eventually will." she raised her eyebrow, but grabbed the book none the less. "Now if that is all, off with you." he batted his hands at her and she quickly found her way out the door, she made it halfway through the clearing when she heard something whisper in her ear, "be careful what you wish for, Seeker." She jumped and spun around, but by the time she turned everything was gone. The carriage, the tent, the stump and the fire pit. It was like they had not even been there in the first place. She clutched the violet book to her chest and frowned, a whistle sounded from above and when she glanced up she was just able to make out a sparrow hidden among the leaves. She was almost back camp when her head began to spin and her nose started to bleed. Cassandra swore to never chase arcane trails again as she road out the side effects of blood magic-induced empathetic manipulation.

 

\---

 

Dune found Tel'Din'Dia absolutely fantastic, there were so many different people with unheard stories and interesting wares. New games like Dead Man's Tricks or Chanson d'Argent, and fascinating foods like sweet cakes and pickled plumbs. Though her favourite thing about the Caravan was how easy it was to lose Cassandra in the crowd. Duck past a large Qunari Merc here, slip past a couple of rather restless Broncos there and scramble up the side of a wagon or three whenever the Seeker got too close. At first, she was avoiding the other woman, simply for a chance to be without a chaperone, though she quickly turned her high-jinks into a game and started placing small bets with Varric as to what she could accomplish before being caught. Currently, she was purchasing a large jar of pickled plumbs with her earnings from the last bet, the rogue had put five gold against her being able to silently smuggle three large stones into Cassandra's pack without being spotted. Varric had been mighty smug the previous night constantly asking Dune where his money was only for the Seeker to arrive and dump out her bag to reveal the rocks buried within. The rogue had slipped her the coin when she went over to aide Cassandra in investigating how exactly they ended up in her satchel.

Dune paid the man for his goods and was debating on opening the jar where she stood or making her way back to the others first when something caught her ear. She could just pick up a pleasant tune being carried by the breeze, she hadn't seen any Bards around the train, but her love for a good song lead to her seeking out the hidden performer. She swerved through the crowd and slipped down temporary alleyways as she tracked the captivating tune, it was not long before Dune arrived at a wagon resting just on the outskirts of the tent city. The carriage was well made when compared to those nearby, with fresh white paint covering smooth wood and two dappled steads standing off to the side grazing on brush. Dune could tell that the sound was coming from behind the cart and after setting her jar on the ground and checking that the wrap over her left hand was secured, she quickly climbed up the side. Once on top she slid across the roof on her belly and peeked over the edge. A woman stood with her back to Dune, silver hair tied up in a messy bun as she scrubbed clothes in a wash bin. Her clothing was fine but lacked the gold or silver lining that what few Ferelden nobles Dune had seen seemed to prefer. She swayed when she stood twirling slightly as she continued to hum an enchanting tune beneath her breath. Dune's eyes were glued to the siren's form as she lightly stepped across flattened grass to a clothesline hanging from a nearby tree. Once the shirt the woman had been handling was hanging to dry she danced back to the basin and continued the task at hand. The siren was beautiful, flowing hair, soft curves and bright green eyes would make most onlookers swoon. But for the elf the most interesting thing about the merchant was her voice, the small warrior was entranced.

"You know," the woman said as she paused in her humming. "As much as I enjoy l'audience, help would be appreciated." Her voice was heavily accented, similar to Sister Nightingale's, though thicker and less sharp. The warrior blushed, she debated slipping away and avoiding the orlesian for the rest of the journey. "Oh come now, do not be shy petit chou, I will not bite." Dune swallowed hard before bringing her legs around and hopping off the cart's roof, "there now, c'était très pas difficile?” Dune cocked her head to the side and her ears perked up.

“Sorry ma'am,” she started almost flinching at how harsh and guttural her own voice sounded. “I don't speak orlesian.”

“Mes excuses,” the woman replied as she stood and dried her hands. “My common is not the best.”

“No problem ma'am,” Dune tugged at her hair. “Learning new languages can be hard.”

“Oui,” the woman slung the rag over her shoulder. “Where are my manners, I am Solange Moreau and you are...?”

“Jay.”

“Jay,” Solange giggled before flicking one of the feathers in Dune's hair, when had she gotten so close? “Named after the trinkets?”

“What?”

“Oh,” she frowned. “Je suis désolé, I had thought that Jay was a bird of some sort. I must have been mistaken...”

“Shit no,” Dune waved her hands and blushed. “A jay's a bird, well sort of, it's slang I think...”

"Charmant," Solange giggled once again before plucking a feather from Dune's hair. "No need to fret mon lapin." Dune scratched the back of her neck, she really needed to ask the Sister for some lessons "What pray tell drew you to me?"

"Your voice."

"My voice, merde, I had hoped that mon chant was quiet."

"It was," Dune flicked her ears upward out of her mane. "Large ears, I pick up a lot of things that most don't."

"Par le Fabricant," the woman gasped and reached for one of Dune's ears. "They are so very large."

"Yeah," Dune chuckled as she flicked the ear away from Solange's touch. "I get that a lot." The orlesian continued to reach for Dune, but instead of grasping the elf's ear she gently ran a finger along her cheek, tracing blue branches segmenting skin.

"I have not spoken with many Dalish," Dune forced herself not to flinch, most conversations that went down this road tended to verge towards blood magic and cannibalistic practices. "Tell me, how far do your tattoos go?" The elf let out a breath that she didn't know she had been holding, talking to Solange was proving to be a nice change of pace.

"It'd be easier to explain where they ain't."

"Truly?"

"Yeah," Dune smirked. "I could show yeah if you're interested." She wasn't one to usually bed strangers, she preferred to know a woman before undressing, but something about the thought of being in control, of making a decision without consulting the other Inquisition members was almost as intoxicating as the siren's song.

“I think,” Solange began, a light dusting of red spreading across her face. “J'aimerais beaucoup ça.”

“Really-” Dune's ears twitched, she could just make out Cassandra calling her alias over the general background noise of the Train. The elf glanced over the hills to the setting sun. It was getting rather late, The Seeker was probably worried, she sighed. “I've gotta go, Duty calls and all that...”

“Oh,” Solange frowned. “Maybe you could return tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Dune shot the orlisian a grin before taking her leave, only to dart back and lightly brush her lips against the other woman's cheek. Solange blushed a deep shade of red as the elf bid her good night prior to ducking into the shadows.

The trek to the Seeker and eventual chewing out was well worth meeting Solange, Dune took the lecture with a smile, her thoughts filled with the idea of being able to spend time with someone who didn't know her as the Herald of Andraste. Her grin didn't falter when she tossed Varric his coin. The rest of the evening flew past and before she knew it, the next day had arrived. She spent the majority of the journey trying to plan out her upcoming date with the orlesian, she didn't want to come off as desperate nor appear uninterested. Lucky for Dune, most of the others were too absorbed in their own goings on to notice the warrior's silence. The Seeker had her face buried in a thin green book, the newest addition to the party was either sharpening his blades or discussing jousting with Varric, the rogue occasionally shot Dune a glance, hinting that he was aware something was going on but spent most of his time writing in his journal; and Baldy never really paid her much attention unless she was threatening to kill him.

Come time to set up camp, the elf had leapt out of the blacksmith's cart before it fully pulled to a stop, and raced off through the crowd in search of a familiar tune. She eventually caught the melody on the wind and was able to track the pleasant sound to Solange's small refuge. The two made light conversation as Dune aided with tending the horses, Cassandra having taught her enough to be of some use. Though during the chores the siren's song enraptured Dune once again and the elf found herself standing still, watching the orlesian dance.

"Do you sing?"

"'Scuse me?" The question caught her off guard.

"Sing? Is that not correct?"

"No, right sorry," Dune scratched the back of her neck before shrugging. "Can't with this voice."

"Oh, je suis désolé.”

“It's alright, everyone has their strengths. Like, for example, I can play the lute.”

"Vraiment?"

"Yeah, It's been a bit though, I'm probably rusty-" Solange had run off before she could finish, returning moments later with a well-worn instrument that was then shoved into the elf's hands. The orlesian began reciting a melody while urging Dune to play. Her fingers were clumsy at best and she plucked more than one bad note, but eventually, they found a tune that they both could carry. It went on like that for the rest of the night, or at least until Dune caught the Seeker's call and had to once more bid her new friend goodbye. She managed to steal a gentle press of lips with her promise to return the next day, but before she could leave Solange grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and smashed their mouths back together. Dune's ears sprung up in surprise as a formally forgotten jar of plums was shoved into her arms. The orlesian pulled back before whispering good night and entering her carriage, leaving a dumbfounded elf standing at her doorstep.

The next few days passed at a similar pace, with Dune keeping herself busy during travel only to vanish from sight the second Tel'Din'Dia pulled off West Road. She would search for Solange's wagon, help the orlesian with whatever chores she had before the two settled down and tried to trip up the other with unknown songs and unique melodies. Though the music would eventually fade as the pair divulged into flirtatious remarks and locking lips before Dune left with dishevelled hair and the pledge to return. She loved her new routine as, for the first time since the Conclave, she felt normal.

Day four rolled around and the elf jumped from the cart laughing all the way down before darting into the quickly growing crowd. Cassandra's warning shout going ignored as Dune focused on a light hum. When she arrived at Solange's camp the horses had already been cared for and the orlesian no ware in sight. A lamp burned from within the wagon and steam was slowly pouring out the windows as she made her way to the door. A call to enter greeted her before she could knock. What questions she had died on her lips as she took in the cart's interior. It was homey, a few small piles of books, a tiny cooking stove and a bundle of pillows, quilts and bedrolls piled in one corner, but none of that caught her eye quite like what sat in the middle of the room. Solange was in a large metal tub of water, smelling of scented oils, leg held in the air as the siren ran a cloth across hairless and blemish free skin, smirk glued to full lips as she batted her eyes at Dune.

"You took your time," the orlesian teased before slipping her leg back into the water and leaning forward, arms resting on the tub's rim. "Could you get my back?" Dune swallowed hard before nodding, shutting the carriage door behind her as she made her way over to the merchant. She rolled up the sleeves of her coat before grabbing the offered cloth and settling in behind the orlesian. She dipped the rag into hot water before ringing it out and running it over Solange's back. "I am leaving tomorrow."

"Oh?" Dune had overheard some others mentioning that they'd be branching off from the Caravan, heading towards smaller towns rather than continuing with the rest past Denirim.

"Oui, I did not wish to leave you on such short notice but-"

"C'est la vie."

"I... Oui, how did you-"

"A..." Dune paused cloth hovering above the Siren's shoulder, what was Cassandra? Her keeper? Her bodyguard? "... a friend of a friend of mine is orlesian."

"Vraiment?"

"Oui," the elf flinched as Solange giggled, her accent must have been atrocious.

"You are precious, mon lapin." Dune hummed as she continued scrubbing the orlesian's back.

"It's cold tonight, you might freeze all by yourself," the elf dragged her free hand down a pale arm, a shiver and gasp followed the action.

"Oh?" The other asked, voice little more than a whisper.

"It'd be quite the loss," She dragged her fingers back up the arm, digits just ghosting the skin. "I should stay. Help stave off the frost."

"Would you?" Solange whispered, "truly?"

"I enjoy spending time with yeah," Dune's hand lingered on the orlesian's shoulder before gently trailing along her collar bone, the other woman sucked in air. "And would like to leave yeah with a night that you won't soon forget." The elf's breath brushed against the siren's neck, Solange's own hitched as Dune pressed her lips into a pale shoulder.

"I think..." The woman whispered as Dune nipped at her jaw. "That would be..." she sighed as a hand trailed across down her spine. "Merveilleux," Dune smirked against creamy skin before dragging her lips down a thin neck. She grazed her teeth across flesh before sucking, coaxing a moan from the siren. The cloth sunk into the water forgotten as calloused hands gently slid across silky smooth skin, gliding past soft breasts and instead, needing into barely visible ribs as teeth nibbled along a sloped shoulder. Solange gasped and arched as hands slunk lower, massaging the flesh of her hips, thumbs rubbing in circles, but skilled fingers refused to slip towards an aching centre. "Jay-" The orlesian's voice was breathy as her hips bucked dangerously close to the water's surface.

"Patience," Dune dug her thumbs into Solange's thighs as her tongue slid against the other woman's throat. The siren hissed her hands shooting from the tub's rim to messy locks. "I like to take my time." Fingers glided back, over a slight stomach and across delicate ribs, tips brushing just below full breasts. Solange whimpered as the elf sucked at her earlobe before grabbing her tits and messaging gently, continuing to ignore the pink peaks that stood erect in the heated air. "Yeah like that hmm?" Dune whispered as the orlesian groaned. "I wonder what else you'd like?"

"Mon dieux," the siren pulled hard at the elf's hair tugging her forward. The taller woman turned her head and bit down on Dune's bottom lip, she hissed as teeth broke skin. Dune barley grassed Solange's nipples, but the other woman still gasped in response. Quick fingers then pinched each peak and twisted. Dune took her chance and deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue past white teeth, Solange moaned into her mouth. Hands went from pulling to gently scratching along her scalp as Dune continued to glide calloused fingers across the other woman's breasts. The siren's hips bucked once again and she dug into the elf's head, just behind large ears. The warrior gasped and shuddered titling forward slightly, hands losing their rhythm.

"Hmm, I heard that elven ears were sensitive but this," Solange ran teeth along the edge of Dune's ear and a moaned slipped past her lips. "Is more than expected." The siren nipped at dark skin Dune gasped once before growling and pulling her head free. The elf pinched and twisted aching nipples. The orlesian's pleased cry echoed slightly off of the wagon's walls, the sound sending heat pooling between Dune's legs. The elf sunk her teeth into the siren's neck before lapping at the abused flesh, the other woman shuddered. "Please, mon dieux please," she whimpered.

"Please what?"

"Baise moi, Jay Please!" Dune smirked before sliding a hand back down to silky thighs, she continued to massage one breast while trailing threw soft petals, the orlesian groaned. Dune quickly found a stiff bud hidden within the folds, she pressed down gently at first and when Solange's hands flew to grip her shoulder and the rim she began to roll the clit between her fingers. The orlesian whimpered and moaned with each stroke, curses slipping between panted breaths as Dune continued to stroke a smooth breast while pinching at a hidden bud. When Solange gasped and her body tensed Dune pulled away, standing before the orlesian could register what happened.

"I... what-"

"Get out."

"Pardon-."

"I said," Dune grabbed a fist full of silver hair and yanked the other woman's head back Solange moaned as her eyes fell shut. "Get out. I wanna taste you." The elf tugged once more before releasing and scooped up a towel that was hanging by the stove as Solange left the tub on shaky legs. "Turn around," she commanded, the siren obeyed. Dune dragged the dry heated cloth over damp shoulders and down a curved spine when she reached the other woman's rear she grabbed. Solange stumbled forward with a gasp as the elf stood on the balls of her feet and pressed a kiss just below her shoulder. "Turn around," Dune released Solange as the orlesian spun. She ran the towel over a bruised collar bone and past full breasts, her hands idled at the other woman's stomach as the elf captured a nipple between her teeth, the orlesian gasped before threading fingers back into short locks as the cloth travelled to her hips and Dune backed her against the wall. She dragged her tongue across a pink peak, barely making contact as Solange panted and squirmed beneath her. She trailed opened mouth kisses from one tit to the other before sucking on a nipple and coaxing another moan from her muse. Her fingers dug into the space between hips and thighs as she teased flesh before biting down and moving on. Dune dried the siren's legs before kneeling and tossing the now damp towel aside, she reached forward and slid her fingers through slick folds, the other woman's breath caught. The elf lapped at pink flesh with her tongue, exploring grooves and savouring the taste. The orlesian moaned and pulled Dune's hair, legs shaking as she struggled to stay on her feet. Dune grinned before parting the other's lips and revealing a needy bud, she ran the flat of her tongue against it as her companion shuddered above her, with fingers still trailing through slick. Dune flicked the clit twice more before sucking it into her mouth and grassing it with her teeth coaxing another whimper from Solange. The elf gently stroked the other woman's petals with one hand while gripping her ass with the other. The orlesian shook above her, panting and gasping every few moments. Dune found her entrance and, without much warning, thrust in. The siren threw her head back and sung a tune full of pleasure and need. The elf picked up her pace, thrusting into the taller woman as fast and hard as she could while dragging her tongue across the sensitive bud. Solange tightened her grip on Dune's hair as she tugged her impossibly close and ground down onto her face with desperate cries and pleading whimpers. The elf could feel walls gripping at her digits as the other woman neared climax, she flicked the clit once more before finding the patch of skin between hip and thigh. She drew the skin into her mouth before sucking hard. A thud sounded from above her as the orlesian's back slammed against the wall, head tilted as she screamed into the rapidly cooling air, walls clamping down on Dune's fingers, as a rush of liquid coated her hand. She continued to pump, dragging out the woman's orgasm as long as she could. With one final cry Solange slumped forwards and, unable to keep herself upright, slid down the wall. Dune smirked as the pleased orlesian dropped to her level, she popped her fingers in her mouth and licked them clean.

It wasn't long before Dune was tugged to her feet by her belt and guided towards the wagon's pile of blankets and other soft trinkets, she was repaid for her efforts in kind that night. Solange's muttered affections drowning out the Seeker's worried call.

 

\---

 

Dune managed to extract herself from Solange a few hours before dawn. She was able to get dressed and slip out into the dark morning easily as she had not allowed her companion to remove her shirt or scarf during their tryst. The cool air felt good against her hot face and clammy skin, she let out a pleased sigh before beginning the search for her parties camp. She was about half a candle's mark into her hunt when she caught wind of whispered mutterings and sharpening blades. The Cock Boy's were making their move, Dune picked up her pace and darted between wagons desperately peaking into tents and glimpsing at camps before moving on. A shout of surprise drew her attention and she sprinted towards the direction, hopefully, she wasn't too late.

 

\---

 

Varric was rudely awoken by rough hands covering his mouth and pulling him from his bedroll, he was tossed to the ground next to a bound, gagged and dazed Chuckles. A shout of surprise sounded from the tent he was just dragged from and a man was thrown through the canvas as Hero chucked him. The burly warden came bowling threw after his attempted attacker blade in hand and bare chest glistening with sweat in the moonlight if the Storyteller wasn't in the process of being captured he'd have pulled out his notes and wrote that down. A grunt and thud came from the other side of their small camp as the Seeker kicked a merc out of her and Jay-bird's space before severing the downed man's head from his body with her borrowed axe. She raised the weapon again, looking fully prepared to charge.

"Hold it," a booming voice with a thick ferelden accent commanded from behind Varric as a sickly looking man in custom armour came into view. "Make one more move, we kill the Mage and the dwarf." The leader declared as someone grabbed a fist full of Varric's undone hair and yanked his head back, he felt a blade press against his throat. The Seeker halted though no one dared approach her, Hero stopped trying to fling the mercs who were attempting to grapple him. Varric cursed, if something could draw their attention for a moment he'd be able to get free. His eyes darted to and fro trying to come up with a plan only to catch sight of Dune crouched in a tree about twenty feet off bow drawn and eyes staring directly at him. A quick glance told him that there were no dwarfs or Qunari among the guard and the few elves they had were busy keeping an eye on Chuckles. Good, the only people who'd be able to catch wind of their little assassin were focused on a half-conscious Mage. He smirked, Hero raised a questioning brow and the Dragon Slayer's scowl deepened.

"Hey Mac," the Storyteller began. "I was wondering when you'd show up." Varric's head was whipped to the side, he tasted blood as his lip split from the force of a steal gloved blow.

"Shut up midget," he hissed and Varric chuckled only to be struck again. "I said silence!"

"Oh, I heard you," he shot the man a bloody grin. "I just don't usually pay attention when mad dogs bark." The next strike came in the form of a swift quick to the gut, steal booted toes definitely braking something as he teetered over backwards and rolled to the side with a groan. Varric coughed twice before dragging himself to his knees.

"No!" "Why'd you have to taunt them like that?" The Seeker and Hero cried hopefully their concern would help lay the groundwork.

"Damned, Stone-blooded," the leader muttered as he stalked forward. "You're lucky I don't kill you." He grabbed Varric by the collar and lifted him into the air, the Storyteller's feet dangled above the ground. "But you have more use yet, yeah? You and your people got two choices, you can either work for me and spend the rest of your days shaking down the people in Tel'Din'Dia or I can gut you here and now like the fat little nug you are." The man shook him once, "what's it gonna be."

"Well," Varric coughed. "I've never been a fan of dying." The leader smirked, "So I'm gonna have to choose option three." 

"Three?" The man frowned. "Yeah," Before the guard could react Varric slipped a dagger free from his sleeve and embedded it into his captor's eye. "Hit 'em high, Jay!" Chaos exploded across the campsite before he even hit the ground. The thug stumbled backhands clawing at his eye and screams probably waking up everyone in the nearby vicinity. Three of the elven rogues were dropped by well-placed arrows before the remaining two dashed in the direction of where Dune was hidden. The Seeker sprang forward with a battle cry ploughing through mercs with every inch she gained. Hero belted out a laugh before grabbing a small rogue by the neck and tossing him into another. Before lazily slicing open a man's throat with a back-swing. The Mage was left forgotten among the grass, swaying where he sat. Varric quickly headed towards Chuckles, drawing more blades and embedding daggers into knees and hips along his way. He arrived at the man's side and was able to catch sight of a nasty head wound, "Hero, potion!" The burly man glanced his way before un-clipping a flask full of chunky red liquid from his belt and tossing it to the Storyteller. Varric let a blade fly, embedding it into a rogue at the bearded man's back, before catching the vial and forcing the iquor down the elf's throat. Chuckles coughed and moaned as his head quickly snapped back and forth at unnerving angels, a choking gag slipped past the Mage's lips as the wound on his skull quickly stitched closed. Fresh spider-webbing flesh shooting across the gash, soon it was nothing more than a slightly lighter patch of skin on the man's hairless scalp.

Varric was unable to check to see how Chuckles was doing as two warriors with rusted weapons rushed them. He twirled his daggers before chucking one into the leftmost attacker's chest. He ducked under the injured warrior's swing, severing his hamstring as he darted past, the man dropped to the ground with a grunt before he and his companion burst into flame. Varric looked over at the Mage and shot the man a smirk. He checked the battlefield, Hero was holding up well as for the Seeker. The woman was cutting through enemies left and right but didn't seem to notice the newfound cyclopes sneaking up on her duel axes in hand. Though before the man could back-stab, there was a crack his eye rolled back and he fell face first into the dirt. Standing behind him was an incredibly bloody Jay, baring her teeth and eyes darting every which way.

The other warriors and Mage finished downing the remaining mercs before sheathing their weapons, well Hero and Chuckles did the Seeker just tossed her's to the ground before running over to Dune, it looked like the Dragon Slayer was gonna chew the other woman out, but seemed to think better of it before gently prying the bow from the elf's white-knuckled grip.

"Well," Varric said as four pairs of eyes locked on him. "That was fun."

 

\---

 

The Herald was beyond injured. Two large knives had been logged into her back, luckily appearing to miss anything vital though the wounds bled profusely. Solas was in no condition to heal, they were out of potions and Varric, being surprisingly fine, had taken Blackwall with the survivors to Lady Lelen. Which meant that Cassandra had to stitch up the other warrior's wounds. They could not remove Dune's tunic do to the blades, so here they were the Seeker painstakingly cutting through leather with Blackwall's dulled hunting knife, trying not to further damage the Herald as she removed the tunic's entire back. Cassandra cursed under her breath and Dune chuckled before flinching and letting out a hiss as the Seeker jostled the blades while trying to shred the leather trapping them in place.

"Sorry-"

"No, it's... fine just..." Dune groaned and buried her head into her arms as Cassandra tugged a little too hard at the ruined leather armour.

"If you had not run off earlier we would not be in this position," the Herald mumbled something into the bedroll. "Are you sassing me?" There was another grumble, "I could make this hurt more than it should." Dune's body shook with a laugh and Cassandra was able to just catch the muffled 'I thought you were already doing that.' The Seeker rolled her eyes before finally prying the leather free, the elf's stiffened shoulders relaxed slightly. Cassandra held back a gasp upon fully baring the other warrior's back, incredibly elaborate blue swirls coated the entirety of Dune's dark skin, sitting between her shoulder blades was a large tree-like shape with an eye at its centre. Every thin branch came from there and wound into detailed thorns and small leaves. The Seeker just managed to catch herself before tracing the tattoos along her wounded comrade's spine. "Be on guard, the worst is yet to come."

It took them two candle marks full of cursing and vicious insults to finish patching up the Herald's wounds, she tried to be as careful as she could but felt she had ruined some of the ink with her clumsy hand. She finished by rubbing some elf root slave into the small warrior's back before being shewed off so the other woman could change and bind her wounds. Cassandra was debating hunting down Varric and tearing him apart when something caught her eye. One of the dead men laying on their hastily constructed pier, he looked like any other member of the guard, but his patch was different. A white fox was messily sown where a red rooster should have been. She knelt down and cut the fabric free before flipping it over, there was a single word embroidered into the cloth, Denerim.

 

\---

 

The past two days nearing the end of the journey had been a lot harder on the party than the other seven. Lady Lelen had exiled the remaining Red Roosters after finding out about their illicit activities. Leaving very few people within the Train that knew how to defend themselves. They were lucky that some of the merchants had separated from the rest to head towards Crestwood. Varric had been enjoying his immunity from her wrath, as he was playing the part of her employer, making snide comments and shooting winks her way. Unfortunately for him. Dune wasn't exactly happy after being run through twice, the elf's insults holding far more venom than usual. Currently, the three of them were trotting ahead of the Caravan on borrowed steads while Blackwall and Solas guarded the rear. Their mounts were old and not exactly high quality, the Herald's the healthiest of them all and the mare kept jerking to the right or jumping slightly at a shift in the underbrush.

"Skinless pig fucker," the elf spat as she tried to regain control of her horse, ears pinned back against her skull.

"You alright there Jay-"

"No Varric I ain't fucking alright my back hurts and-" the horse let out a loud snort and Dune clamped her mouth shut while eyeing the beast wearily. "Are yeah sure this thing's safe Cass'?"

"We have only a handful of candle mark's left before our journey ends. The horse will hold."

"That's not what I-" a loud metal clang sounded behind them as a steal tub was jostled free from one of the carts. The sound spooked Dune's horse, who reared up on her back legs, the motion surprising the Herald and causing the reins to slip from her grasp. The stead entered a dead sprint upon landing, the elf just barely managing to wrap her arms around the beast's neck as it took off into the trees.

"Jay!” “Baszni.”

Cassandra spurred her own mount into a gallop after the runaway horse, the trail the beast had chosen was overgrown and treacherous slowing them both down though the mare maintained the lead. Branches whipped past the Seeker's head, she ducked under most, but smaller ones reached her face leaving stinging cuts in their wake. She spurred her stead once more, trying to gain even the slightest bit of ground and was able to push the beast behind the mare.

"Dune, you must ride it."

"I am riding it!"

“No, Az istenit, you are being led. You must be the one to lead."

"What?"

"Steer it!"

"I can't reach the reins!"

"Use your hips!" She watched as the small elf tried to get into a sitting position only for the horse to leap over a log and the woman to fall forward once again. The Seeker would have to be the one to take control of the situation. She forced her own stead into the brush, risking killing a horse was better than losing the Herald. She managed to pull just slightly ahead of the mare, leaning out of her saddle she made for the reins only for the leather to slip past her fingers. Just as the tip of her thumb brushed the thing both horses jerked to a sudden halt, sending their unaware riders flying forward and into a shallow pond. The Seeker sat up spluttering, Dune splashed to the surface next to her before grabbing her side with a groan.

"I think... my stitches tore..."

"You're lucky you-" she let out a shrike as something moved in her tunic, small black eyes peered up at her from her neckline before a frog leapt back into the pond. The Herald chuckled and she scowled. "Never speak of this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all,
> 
> So I'm changing posting times again, my chapters have gotten progressively longer and I feel like I need to take two weeks to get them out. Especially with job hunting being a current focus.
> 
> Anyways let me know what y'all think,
> 
> IAAWIP
> 
> P.S (Language)
> 
> French
> 
> L'audience - An audience  
> Petit chou - Little cabbage  
> C'était très pas difficile - That was not very difficult  
> Mes excuses - My apologies  
> Oui - Yes  
> Je suis désolé - I am sorry  
> Charmant - Lovely  
> Mon lapin - My rabbit  
> Merde - Shit  
> Mon chant - My singing  
> Par le Fabricant - By the Maker  
> J'aimerais beaucoup ça - I would like that very much  
> Vraiment - Really  
> C'est la vie - That's life  
> Merveilleux - Marvelous  
> Mon dieux - My god  
> Baise moi - Fuck me  
> Pardon - Excuse me
> 
> Elven
> 
> Tel'Din'Dia - Unstoppable Caravan (Roughly) 
> 
> Hungarian
> 
> Baszni - Fuck  
> Az istenit - God Damn It


	7. The Bastard and The Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the King and recruiting a slew of interesting characters leaves the party with little free time on their hands.
> 
> Dune and Cassandra find common ground, Varric and Blackwall meet some new friends and Leliana questions her life choices.

Leliana dismissed Scout Harding after receiving the dwarf's report, the young woman had scampered off quickly as she had very little time to finish making final preparations. Especially now with the need to secure extra potions in order to heal the wounded Herald. The Sister scowled, if Varric had not been so reckless they would not be in this mess. All he had to do was keep his head down and talk the party's way out of trouble, not into it.

She sighed and shook out her arm, the limb always ached whenever the temperature changed and her race to Ferelden's capital had not given her even the slightest amount of time to adjust to the now humid air. She rubbed circles into her palm and glanced out the window, the sun still hung high above the city and there would be quite a few candle marks yet before the meeting. Maybe, she had enough time. She shook her head, such ideas were foolish. No one knew that she was in this city, why ruin the blessed anonymity. Though the Inquisition was young and although she and Cassandra were wanted for supposed heresy that did not mean that everyone was aware of who exactly she was. She had worked for years keeping her own name hidden, only being addressed as Leliana by the Divine or Cassandra. What was the point of hiding if she was not able to capitalize? The Sister pushed herself back from her desk, she made her way over to her room's hidden entrance and pressed her ear to it. Her hearing may have not been anywhere near as good as her wife's, but it was still quite sharp. No sounds came from the hall and most of her scouts would not have direct contact with her for a while, she had time. 

 

\---

 

Dune was bored. She had been banished back to the Blacksmith's cart after being thrown from her shitty horse and tearing her stitches. It took Cassandra almost an entire candle mark to clean up her wounds and make sense of the tear. Both of them had agreed that the experience was not one that they desired to repeat and now there she was. Alone in a wagon filled with un-smelted ore and nothing to do. She flopped back against her pack, fully intent on killing time by sleeping, only to grunt when her head came into contact with something hard.

Frustrated the elf shoved her hand into the satchel and ripped a tome from it's depths, a tome that she did not recognize nor remember packing. Embroidered flowers curled around the book's spine and everything from the cover to the pages looked well worn.

"What the..." she sat up and rubbed the back of her head before dragging the bag around to dig through. Though she did not find her journal or charcoal, nor her feathers, leather strips, oil and hunting knife. Instead, Dune retrieved a handful of parchment paper a vial of ink and quill along with five relatively large books. "This... this ain't my pack..." She inspected the flowery tome and recognized it as one of the old manuscripts that Cassandra was always reading. Assuming the text to be something martial and having nothing better to do she flipped it open. "'Tales of the Broken Hearted', is... is Cass reading romance? No that ain't right..." Dune closed the book, "She probably wouldn't be too happy with me going through her tomes.." The elf didn't move, the book stayed in her grip, "I'll just read a chapter, maybe... maybe it'll come in handy..." She opened the text once more and quickly found a ledger, she chose a story and settled in, Dune's intention was never to get lost within the pages.

 

\---

 

The Seeker found the rest of the trip to Denerim tedious at best, without Dune to distract Varric the two had fallen into an awkward silence that quickly grew to be too much for the rogue. He started with a one-sided conversation about Prince Sebastian which rapidly disintegrated into her being cursed out for interrogating him. The headache she had and the embarrassment from her verbal beating was almost enough to make her leave the Storyteller and go keep the Herald company. Almost.

They had finally arrived at the turning off point, the rest of Tel'Din'Dia would be looking for a clearing to set up shop. One far enough away from the city proper that none of the Caravan would have to pay merchant taxes. Yet close enough that the townsfolk would have no problem with visiting the travelling market. The rest of their trek would be made on foot as the steads currently being ridden were borrowed. Cassandra had left her skinny stallion with Varric as he went off to return the horses to Lady Lelen, both were more than great full to be away from the other, and made her way to the Herald's cart. The Importer's wagon was about midway through the train and the small hike gave her time to think, she had done what was required in order to learn about the Champion. The world had been in crisis, by the Maker, it still was. They needed a leader, someone who had not fought for power. Someone who would be unbiased in helping fix the massive cataclysm that was the Mage-Templar War. Hawke had been perfect, why could Varric not see that? As for the interrogation itself, she had not laid a hand on him, well, that was only technically true. She had thrown a book at his face and broken his nose. 

The Seeker huffed as her cheeks flushed once more, her temper had always been a problem and now here she was. Working with a man in which she attacked without precedence. Maybe the Chancellor had been right, maybe she was nothing but a thug. She shook her head, such thoughts would accomplish nothing they had a job to do after all. She knocked on the side of Dune's cart and lent against it, waiting for the elf to come scampering out. She figured that the other woman had already heard her arrive, but knocked out of courtesy. Moments passed and nothing happened. Cassandra frowned and knocked once more. Nothing. Not good. 

The Seeker took off and skitted to a halt behind the cart, hooking her hands onto the frame she vaulted over the back gate. Only when her booted feet hit the floor with a solid thud did Dune look up from what she was doing. The elf's ears were pointed forward, her eyes watery, cheeks wet with tears and clutched in her hand was a very familiar tome. 

"How did you...?" Cassandra reached for the pack hanging from her shoulders and tore it open, none of the belongings were hers. 

"Sorry didn't mean to go snooping," Dune stated as she tried to rapidly wipe the tears from her eyes. 

"Are you hurt!" The Seeker demanded a little more forcefully than intended. 

"What? No why?" 

"You're crying." 

"No, I'm not, I just got something in my eye-" 

"Both?" 

"Yes..." Dune sighed and shook her head, "no." The small elf stood up slowly while leaning heavily on the half wall next to her. "I'm sorry I went through your stuff, wasn't fair of me," She held the tome out. "Here..." 

"You never answered me," the Seeker said as she snatched the book from the Herald's grasp. 

"What?" 

"Why were you crying?" 

"Oh uh," Dune tugged on some of the hair hanging in front of her face, ears drooping down and skin flushing red. "I just... one of the tales in your book it was hard to read. Sad but... but still good." 

"Oh?" The Seeker was surprised, most who found out about her preferred taste in literature had a tendency to mock, "What tale did you read?" 

"The one about the fisherman..." 

"And his blind wife?" 

"Yes, it's just. Unfair his voice, why take the one thing they had." 

"Exactly! The love they had was priceless, the world can be cruel." 

"Right!" The two stared at one another for a moment, before Cassandra handed back the book. 

"Here, it is not often that I find someone who shares my fondness towards romance." The elf looked up at the Seeker before her face split into a large grin. 

"Thanks, Cass, I haven't really had much to do." 

"No need to thank me, as long as you promise to tell me what you think." 

"Yeah wanna discuss it once I'm finished?" 

"I..." Now it was her turn to blush. "If that is alright with you. Not many people know I read such tales and even less have enjoyed them." She scratched the back of her head and coughed into her hand. 

"Deal," she met the elf's gaze. "I'll give yeah my thoughts when I'm done." 

"Good," they shared a grin, only for Dune to quickly glance away and mutter something about getting on the move. The two grabbed their respective packs before making their way back to the others. 

 

\--- 

 

The hike to Denerim had taken far longer than initially intended, with the Herald's injuries the Seeker had insisted they brake to catch their breath. At midday, Dune was sweating profusely and Cassandra found the other woman's wheezing to be concerningly harsh. They were already late and delaying any farther could lead to a search party being sent out and blowing their cover before they were even in the city. She made the decision to lessen the strain on the Herald's body and, with surprisingly little protest from the elf herself, had hoisted the injured woman into her arms. Varric frowned as the Seeker pushed forward and Blackwall sped up with a hushed offer to carry Dune if she grew too heavy. Cassandra shot him down, the smaller warrior was her responsibility after all. 

 

Most of the area around Ferelden's Capital was farmland, though a small shanty inn sat just outside the gates. The Strangled Goose's sign swung lazily in the afternoon's slight breeze, the squeaking of old metal filled the air as the marker's chains rubbed against one another. The party continued to the gate, only to be cut off moments later by a small figure darting out from behind the shack. Hair done up in a messy bun with a dress worn and roughly sewn together Scout Harding stood before them, she glanced briefly at the injured elf in the Seeker's arms before gesturing for them to follow. She led them to the city gates, flashed something to the guards posted outside and was able to quickly get the others in without any hassle. 

Denerim was much like how Cassandra remembered it, with dirt streets, brown buildings and stray dogs lingering in every nook and cranny. She grunted as the cities naturally off-putting smell hit her. No one seamed please by the stench, though Solas appeared more preoccupied with covering his ears before she could ask what was wrong Dune had pinned hands against her own and buried her face into Cassandra's chest. 

"I take it that neither of you are used to the city?" Harding asked with a glance thrown over her shoulder as she made her way towards a side street. 

"No, I tend to spend my time among the ruins of old," Solas stated flinching as particularly shrill laugh sounded from the nearby square. 

"It's... so... loud," Dune muttered, the elf's panted breath dusting the Seeker's skin and sending a shiver down her spine. 

"Will they be alright?" She asked while trying to ignore just how close the woman in her arms was. 

“They should be fine, a few of our ex-dalish agents were in a similar position,” Harding stated as she turned down an ally. She was extremely quick for someone with such little legs. “They got used to it though, tuning it out after a few days.” Both of the elves grumbled.

“I'm sorry Lady...” 

“Scout Harding, I'm no Lady and there's no reason to pretend otherwise.”

“Right,” Blackwall scratched the back of his head. “But where exactly are you taking us?”

“To one of Sister Nightingale's safe houses.”

“The Sister has a safe house in the Dog Lord capital?” The Storyteller asked.

“She has a few.”

“Why would she need more than one?” 

“Less of a need and more so a slow accumulation. The one I'm taking you too came into her possession immediately after the fifth blight.”

“Oh-”

“That particular building seems small for a party of our size,” Cassandra stated as she adjusted the barely conscious Herald in her arms. 

"It's been altered to hold larger groups." She merely grunted in response. A few more twists and turns and they arrived at a nondescript door, the Scout drew a key and messed with the locks for a few moments. She could just make out the sound of traps being disabled before the thing swung open, the cabin had been altered since her last visit. The common area had an array of new furnishings, some worn chairs and a small card table shoved off to the side, the entrance way by the bedchambers had an old cot and a bunch of medical supplies, as well as a few Healers in Inquisition heraldry, standing at attention. Cassandra nodded to them as she set Dune down, though she did not travel far from the Herald and instead leaned against the wall to watch the mage's proceedings. Varric's rummaging in the kitchen drew her attention and she glanced his way only to spot dark reddish splotches splattered across the cooking area's archway. Blood was difficult to get out of wood. Solas disappeared into the bedchambers and Blackwall set up in one of the chairs, only to begin sharpening his blade. Scout Harding was nowhere within sight, but a soft feminine voice followed by the Storyteller's laughter told her that the woman had followed him into the kitchen. All was calm until one of the Healer's made for the injured elf's scarf and the woman sat up with a snarl her teeth gnashing inches from the man's fingers. 

"Don't touch me!" The Herald growled as she lurched forward with a speed that the Seeker had not seen in days. The Healers both jumped back, the one who had been attacked gripping his miraculously uninjured hand. There was a crash from the kitchen and the Warden's blade clattered against the stone fireplace. The atmosphere went from comfortable to tense and deathly silent in seconds. Dune's eyes darted back and forth, the elf pressing the wall to her back only to let out a hiss as she placed pressure on her wounds. 

"Herald-" Cassandra began, but the woman wasn't listening, she repeated the title a few more times before stomping forward and grabbing her charge by the shoulders, "Dune!" The elf's gaze finally landed on her as fire locked with ice. "They mean you no harm, they are our people and they are here to heal." The Herald's eyes flicked back and forth between her and the Healers before finally settling on Cassandra. 

"The Scarf stays." Cassandra nodded before glancing back at those waiting to treat Dune. 

"The scarf stays, that's an order," the one who nearly lost a finger nodded and the other looked ready to protest but was cut off by a curt 'understood'. They began to slowly remove the woman's armour, Cassandra stepped back though remained close as she towered over the two men and blocked the Herald's naked back from the others in the room. Luckily Cassandra had done a decent job in treating Dune's injuries and there was no infection, just torn stitches and weeping wounds. The hardest part of the procedure was having to completely remove the catgut, the Herald laid on her stomach with her hands secured firmly to her neck and after a few hissed curses Cassandra decided to try and distract her from the pain. She sat down at the head of the cot arms and legs crossed. 

"What did you think?" 

"'Bout what," Dune flinched. 

"The Book, you've read some." 

"Oh," the elf's ears flicked forward. "Loved it." 

"Honestly?" The Seeker couldn't keep the surprise from her voice. 

"Yeah, damn thing was real moving. I managed to just get to the end of the first tale," she smiled and Cassandra couldn't help but mirror it. 

"The first one is a tale of misery, the book specializes in such things, but the others are nowhere near as heartbreaking..." It did not take long to distract the Herald and pretty soon the elf had re-positioned herself so she was resting her head on her arms instead of clutching her neck like a dying man scratching at his noose. Cassandra too had relaxed and was leaning back on one arm while gesturing with the other. Neither noticed when the Healers finished and continued to discuss the finer subtleties of the fisherman's story far after they had left. Soon the sound of a wet stone grinding against a blade joined their conversation echoing throughout the safe house and not long after laughter could be easily picked up from the kitchen. Solas eventually returned with a book in hand and glanced at Dune's exposed back before settling in by the fire. Cassandra had not felt such at ease since her nights chatting with Leliana in Vale Royeaux. Varric and Harding eventually emerged from the kitchen with soup, spilling some as they shoved each other laughing all the way. Everyone cleared out so Dune could re-dress, but fairly soon they were all seated by the fire sharing stories. Varric re-told the tale of Hawke's fight with the Arishok, Blackwall some battle that he had won and even Solas shared an old Dalish poem without Dune interrupting him. Though all good things come to an end. 

"Common Seeker just tell us how you slayed a hundred dragons," Varric teased after she denied to re-en-count her story for the sixth time. 

"It was not a hundred dragons, I was not alone and it was dealt with accordingly," she answered with a glare and a grunt. 

"What if I ask nicely?" 

"Varric-" 

"Cassandra-" 

"How 'bout I tell y'all how I got my vallaslin at eleven summers?" Dune cut in, causing Solas to choke on his tea. 

"The Dalish do not go for their right of passage until they are at least twenty how-" 

"If yeah listened instead of interrupting you'd know," she snapped back before glancing at the others. "So how 'bout it?" Cassandra sighed as Varric shot the Herald a grin. 

"Alright, Jay-Bird let's hear it." 

 

\--- 

 

It was mid-fall when the hunters started to go missing, at first it wasn't too concerning we loose clan-mates every once in a while but when the number of losses started to go up people were getting worried. After missing person number four Keeper Deshanna was right about ready to pack up and leave Planasene and head out for Minanter. Which would of been a problem due to the fact that none of our regular herds had migrated yet. Though the clan had known hunger before and probably would again, but the situation wasn't exactly ideal. Things changed when Jack's arm was discovered. Damn thing was torn to shreds and then some, if it wasn't for the bramble that the hunters found it in whatever beast had killed him would have probably eaten that too. Now with a quarry, Deshy was more determined to find the thing and put it in the ground. We knew that it wasn't no dragon, easy enough to tell from the lack of damage and undisturbed underbrush. Some thought that it might have been a werewolf, but such children's stories weren't exactly accepted as an answer to our plight. She sent out hunting party after hunting party and they all kept turning up empty-handed, on the bright side there were no more attacks, but the excess hunters in the area had scared off the game towards the Vimmark Mountains. Not the worst thing to happen though it'd now be about a day or twos journey before we could get our hands on fresh meat. Deshy was at her wits end and was tempted just to relocate the entire clan to the mountains, though protests from those who feared the City of Ashe's current state easily rebuked her argument. Things got quiet for a bit, at least until the night of the full moon. 

Magic gets wired on a full moon especially in areas teeming with the old stuff, things don't function like you want them too. Fire spells fizzle to ice and any dream weaving can easily just turn to a cluster-fuck of nightmares on stilts. Most of the hunters had already followed the herds to the mountains and the warriors still in camp and not patrolling the forest were exhausted from long restless hours. I don't blame anyone but myself for what came next. 

It was a nice night, the air was relatively warm with a slight breeze keeping everyone cool and even though we were getting low on supplies the lack of attacks had lifted spirits. The guard was down and that's why when my little sister asked if we could go catch fireflies in the lavender field to the West of camp I foolishly said yes. With nothing but a couple of jars, my mother's bow and my father's hunting knife we left. It was a short hike and we could still hear the camp's goings on while standing chest deep in flowers. I remember Dhea's laughter, everyone had been stressed and it had been so long since she had so much as smiled. That changed quickly. 

I noticed the shift in the mood first, the crickets and nightingales had gone silent and pretty soon what was once pleasant joy filled giggling turned sour as it bounced off the trees and filled the now eerie clearing. There was no warning, but I knew something was coming. I've heard a few sailors talk about the calm before the storm, the way the hair stands up on your body and the air feels almost electrified. I just remember the thing's eyes, a glowing blue almost as pale as my own and it leapt, teeth bared and silent heading straight for Dhea. I've never moved so fast in my life as I dove forward and shoved the bow into the thing's jaws, I pushed it with my shoulder and threw off it's footing it stumbled to the side as I tucked Dhea behind me. 

The few clouds above us shifted and the clearing lit up instantly. I was the first in my clan to get a good look at the thing that had been terrorizing us for months and the first thought to come to my mind when I laid eyes on this beast no monstrosity was unnatural. It vaguely resembled a wolf, though it was much too large and bursting at the seams with muscle, so much so that in some areas it's flesh was ripped open and I could see the tendons beneath. It's fur was plastered to it's body, caked with dried blood and other things that I couldn't name. Twigs and stones jutted out of it in random places and if this thing felt pain for it's injuries it didn't show it. Tendrils of white smoke kept pouring off of it's form like it was overheating and it had far too many teeth, so much so that it looked like little sharp daggers were pouring out of it's mouth. I had a second to take that all in before it snapped my mother's bow, her iron bark bow, in two and charged forward. A smart kid would have screamed for help, shit a scared one would of ran, but I couldn't all I felt was rage. A burning hatred that smothered into a cool collective calm, I drew my father's blade and charged forward. My sister is the only one who really knows what happened next, it was all a blur for me I just remember watching it shatter the bow and then standing knee deep in rotting innards.

According to her, I ran forward, holding this curved halla horn dagger like it was a great sword, though I guess for a kid of my size it might as well have been. The thing leapt into the air, it's head splitting open into two upon the decent and four separate rows of disease coated fangs were rapidly coming in my direction. I let go of the dagger and reached out with that hand and grabbed it's bottom right jaw. The teeth went through my flesh like a knife through butter and I plunged the blade as deep into the thing's throat as I could get. I was up to my shoulder in this creature as black ooze splashed onto me. The beast quickly pulled itself back spraying more iqour to and fro, the lavender that we were still standing in was quickly being weighed down by pitch. The thing gurgled and swayed taking the knife buried in it's guts with it. I didn't give it time to recover, I grabbed two arrows from the quiver on my back and rushed it. I stabbed it everywhere I could get at and when those arrows broke I left them embedded in it's hide and drew more. The thing tried to pull me out from under it's legs, but I was too small too quick and soon it was so full of arrows that I was braking them on the metal already hidden beneath it's skin. Though I didn't come away scrape free, it grabbed me by the leg at one point and chucked me straight across the clearing, I was lucky that it only broke the limb instead of tearing it right off. But I didn't care, I wasn't able too I was ready for it, had hobbled halfway back to it before it finally decided to try and finish me off instead of running. Neither of us were gonna last long at that point, it was down to who landed the next attack. I waited before it pounced and ducked just under it's gate, embedding my last two arrows into where I thought it's heart would be it died before it hit the ground and unfortunately took me with it in the crash landing. That's when Dhea started screaming.

When the Clan found me I had an almost completely shredded right hand, six broken ribs and one shattered leg. I later found out that the damn thing had been rabid and possessed by a Rage Demon, my anger probably the only thing keeping it off Dhea and attacking me, but as far as the Clan was concerned I had slain Fen'Harel himself. Once my wounds healed I was pulled from my aravel by a sea of people chanting either my father's name or Ha'lam or Fen'harel, Deshy didn't even bother to protest when I asked to receive my vallsalin.

 

\---

 

Cassandra had remained stoic during most of the Herald's tale, but once she began to describe the beast she couldn't help, but let out a small gasp. She recognized the characteristics of some sort of possessed animal and being told that a very small elven child had taken one down on her own seemed almost as impossible as most of Varric's tales. Solas was completely focused on Dune, Blackwall had stopped tending to his gear and Scout Harding's spoon had been hovering above her bowl for the past few minutes. It was silent when Dune finished, only to be broken by the dwarf's loud bark of laughter. 

"You almost had me there for a second Jay," he chuckled as he clapped the warrior on the shoulder. "You might want to look into getting something printed when this whole thing's been handled, I know a guy who's been looking for new storytellers." The Herald shot Varric a grin and let out her own hissing chuckle as she lent down and rolled up her pant leg half way up her calf. The blue swirls that coated the rest of her body were absent and instead replaced with savage scars and old burns, the dwarf choked on his drink. 

"I don't blame you," the elf started. "I lived through it and still find what happened to be pretty near unbelievable." 

The Seeker could not take her eyes off the leg, who was this woman?

 

\---

 

It didn't take long after the tale for everyone to make their way to the living quarters, the once grand poster bed having been replaced with about eight smaller ones. To say that the accommodations were tight would have been an understatement, but no one complained as they were all able to sleep in beds for the first time in months. Cassandra didn't even bother with her books, choosing instead to pass out the second her head hit the pillow. 

The next day was relatively bland. They were not yet given clearance to leave the safe house and most busied themselves with something or other. After losing her third game of Wicked Grace to a way to smug dwarf the Seeker had opted to read until receiving the all clear. Scout Harding slipped away at some point only to return mid-afternoon with word that their contact was waiting for them though she quickly dismissed the men when they rose to get ready, saying that only Cassandra herself and the Herald would be needed for the meeting to come. The other's were momentarily confused, but after given the go-ahead to meander about Denerim quickly took off with nothing but brief goodbyes tossed over their shoulders. The Seeker much preferred to be working and donned her armour relatively quickly, Dune doing the same and letting out a cheer when she was able to hold her preferred great-sword. The blade's brambles rapidly wound their way around their wielder's arms, both appeared to be satisfied with the reunion. 

It did not take them long to get to a rundown warehouse at the city's edge, Cassandra wasn't surprised when a plain clothed Leliana appeared to emerge from the shadows themselves. 

"How was your journey?" The bard asked a friendly smile teasing the edge of her lips. 

"Long," both she and Dune replied in union. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I hope that you are both ready, this might be the only chance we get at this, non?" 

“At what?” “Leliana...”

A cough sounded from behind them and both warriors drew their weapons as they turned to face a young looking man in fine Ferelden clothing.

“Sorry, I ran a little late. The royal guards are an uppity bunch.”

 

\---

 

Chuckles had run off to do Marker only knows what the second the trio had hit the city proper, not that Varric minded Hero was plenty company enough. The two chatted relatively idly as they perused the nearby wears the Warden showing some interest in a few blades and the Storyteller spending his time messing with any pickpockets not perceptive enough to spot a fellow rogue. It was not until the two had stumbled into Gnawed Noble Tavern, looking for sub-par drink and even lower grade company that anything exciting happened. Seated in a corner doing anything, but enjoying the mead in his concerningly sticky mug Varric had a perfect view of the brawl that erupted centre stage and was just quick enough to clamp his hand over Hero's shoulder. He knew a champion when he saw one. 

Standing a few tables off was a young man with well-trimmed hair and a tan complexion, four heavily swaying men stood over him. Someone yelled something along the lines of 'get the Vint!' and they all lurched forward like a grove of falling trees. The man in relatively well-cared for, but clearly worn, armour sidestepped the first two grabbed a nearby table and shoved it forward at the others. One man went ass over tea kettle as the table hit his shins and the other stumbled back. The roller staggered to his feet only to be grabbed by the young man and effortlessly tossed back at his friend. The back of his skull connected with the other's forehead and they both dropped like sacks of bricks. 

The two left tried to surround the young fellow, one drawing a curved knife and the other razing a chair over his head. A quick side step and the young man past both. He was just beyond his attackers as their makeshift weapons came into contact with one another. The knife wielder slashing a large wound across his friend's torso only to be knocked out by a chair broken over his back. 

The young man stood tall brushed some unseen dust from his shoulder and placed a few coins on the table that he had used as an impromptu barricade before turning on his heal and making his way for the door. Varric was on his feet and following the man before he had even exited the bar, he knew a character when he saw one and was not about to let a potential muse get away. He could hear Hero awkwardly stumbling behind him as he tried to navigate the crowded bar. Varric burst through the doors and immediately started casing the nearby streets. 

"Looking for me?" He whipped to the side and spotted his quarry leaning against the wall of the bar twirling a dagger. 

"Guess I am," he walked forward with a swagger in his step. "Varric Thethras at your service," he gave a shallow bow and held out his hand the man laughed as they shook. 

"Cremisius Aclassi, though most just call me Krem," at his finished introduction Hero barrelled out of the door next to them. 

"How'd you learn to fight like that?" The Warden demanded as the door slammed shut behind him. 

"I didn't fight, not really-" 

“Exactly,” Hero marched forward. “You used both your environment as well as the other opponents to your advantage. I've never seen anything like that!”

“The Chief makes sure that all of us are trained in basic hand to hand,” Krem shrugged. “And those who show an affinity for it get to learn a bit more.”

“Chief?”

“Yeah,” Krem stopped flipping his dagger. “My boss and the Leader of the Chargers.”

“I've heard of you, aren't you guys led by some massive Qunari?”

“That'd be the Chief.”

“Interesting-” “Mind me asking what brings a mercenary man like yourself into a city like this on his own?”

“Been looking for work and...” Krem darted his eyes from left to right and back again before leaning close enough to muffle his voice from the crowd. “We got lintel that some Inquisition forces might be in the area and we're interested in joining.”

“What why-”

“Well I've got news for you, I'm in good with some of the Inquisition's soldiers and if the rest of your company is anywhere near as competent as you on the battlefield they'd probably be interested.”

"Really-" 

"They'd just need to prove themselves of course." 

"Right-" 

"Can't go around hiring expensive untested men." 

"Fair-" 

"So how do we fix such a problem," Krem just stared at him. "Well?" 

"Oh, can I talk now?" 

"Of course you can, what kind of question is that?" Krem huffed and ran a hand through his hair as the warden shrugged. 

"He's like this with everyone, it grows on you." 

"Somehow I doubt that." 

"Hey-" 

"We're up at the Storm Coast dealing with Venatori and bandits that have been spotted in the area." 

"Alright-" 

"But, before I take anyone to the rest of my company I need to know that you're the real deal," Varric nodded. 

"How about we send an official Inquisition scout with you and some fancy documents?" 

"That could work." 

"Sounds like a plan," Varric shot Krem a smirk. "The scout and your paperwork we'll be right here at midnight tonight, show up late and they'll leave, you better be ready kid." 

"Of course." Krem gave a stiff salute before straightening out his armour and marching off towards the city gates, the Storyteller watched the man take his leave for a moment thinking that the seen would be good for his next chapter. Though maybe with far more explosions and bodies littering the streets. 

With not much else to do the men decided to spend the rest of their fleeting free time perusing the markets, nothing really captured Varric's attention save for a relatively worn looking dwarven merchant yelling about his fine crafts. Hero seemed to agree and made his way over to the table, the large warden plucked one of the blades from the stall and glanced down its length checking the tempered steel for any warps or nicks. Though Varric was stopped on his way to get a better view by an arrow whistling just past his ear and embedding itself into the ground at his feet. 

Hero jumped and spun around, borrowed blade held defensively in front of his form ready for a fight. But no more arrows came. The Storyteller approached the miss fired ammunition and yanked it from the dirt, a note was tied securely to its side. 

“What's that?” Hero asked as he returned the disgruntled merchant's sword.

“Looks like... some sort of scavenger hunt.”

 

\---

 

Leliana had gone over Cassandra's potential reaction to having the King of Ferelden sprung on her multiple times. She expected outrage yelling or a slew of nasty glares slung her way prior to the warrior kneeling and giving some noble dribble that she did not believe in. Though none of her planning prepared her for the silence, for Cass to keep a calm demeanour as the man stepped into view only to lean over to the very confused looking Herald after a few moments and whisper something into the smaller woman's ear. The elf went from confused to nervous in seconds, large ears perking from their restful position and eyes widening as she met Alistair's gaze.

“Your thing King?” She asked, scratchy voice wavering slightly.

“In a sense,” the man replied with a sigh before running a hand through his fluffy blond hair. “Though what is a King really? All I seem to do is eat fancy cheese and anger everyone who's supposed to keep me from dying.”

“That sounds like a King to me,” the Herald responded with a smaller version of her mischievous grin. “But my frame of reference is pretty none existent.” Alistair barked out a laugh.

"No I suppose that you're far more familiar with religious matters?" the small warrior went from stumbling and awkward to angry immediately, shooting the man an icy glare. He choked on his next statement. "Right... sorry, how about this I won't call you Herald if you don't call me King?" The elf cocked her head to the side before giving a stiff nod. 

"Deal." 

"Lovely," Alistair clapped his hands together and was back to his boyish self in seconds. "Now that we have the awkward stumblings out of the way, let's talk about why we're here." He paused and turned to face Leliana, "Why are we here exactly?" Gaze still locked on Cassandra the Sister was easily able to catch the roll of her friend's eyes. 

"You mentioned wanting to aide the Inquisition?" 

“Right!”

“You plan on sending troops?” Asked Cassandra as she finally joined the conversation.

“No, not-”

“Supplies?” The Herald cut in.

“Well no-”

“Coin?” “Gold?” The warriors questioned.

"Not exactly-" 

"Then how do you plan on aiding us?" Her friend demanded as the man stumbled and the elf went back to looking lost. 

"How about you let me finish speaking instead of playing twenty questions, we'll be able to get this meet and great over with far faster that way." The warriors remained silent as they gave the boy King their full attention. "Perfect, now I want to help you. I really do, I believe in your cause and the hole in the sky is in desperate need of a patch job. But you've been excommunicated by the Chantry and it wouldn't look too good if I, the King of Ferelden, officially sided with you or started sending a slew of troops to the Orlesian border. I'm not really the sneaky type, always been more of a hit the problem with a sword and bored till it went away kind of guy, probably another reason why Thistle running the show during the blight was a good idea-" 

"Ally," Leliana interrupted. 

"Right sorry, I'm rambling I do that some times you'll get used to it," the Herald and Cassandra shot each other a look. "Anyways, so sis' here came up with an idea, I can disguise some of my more loyal troops as mercenaries and have the Inquisition recruit them. They'll bring their own supplies and it'll look just like you're recruiting on mass instead of me actively sending you men and woman." 

"That's your plan?" Her friend sounded sceptical. 

"What about the paper trail?" The elf joined in, "I don't know much 'bout recruiting soldiers or what not, but shit seems like it'll cost a lot a coin." 

"That's the best part! I'll still be paying them their regular wages so you won't even have to spend a single copper." 

"Yeah, but if someone looks into it they'll be able to notice your missing troops or the fact that we ain't paying 'em." 

"That, my small friend, is where my favourite sister in law comes in." 

"Last I checked Ally, I was your only sister in law, non?" 

"Oui, but that doesn't mean that you can't be my favourite," the King cocked his head to the side and shot her a cocky grin. 

"Leliana?" 

"I'll be keeping a large number of scouts in Denirim for a while to switch out paperwork and keep our," she gestured to the boy King. "Correspondents from the hands of enemy spies, meanwhile Alistair will begin sending troops into Ferelden to help deal with the current demon, templar and mage problem. Some of those men will branch off from their parties and head to Haven under the guise of doing smaller missions for the crown." 

"And we'll switch them out with other soldiers every once in a while so my men aren't just lost to the Fade." 

"That all makes sense, but I have just one question," the elf asked. "Why did yeah even need this meeting? It seems that yeah both have this figured out." 

"True, but I wanted to meet the next woman lined up to save the world." the smaller warrior flinched at the King's words. "Which I've got to say, you've lived up to expectations." 

"Really?" The Herald didn't sound too sure. 

"Of course, that blade alone is bigger than me and yet you're holding it like it weighs no different than a hunting knife." 

"It doesn't." 

"What?" 

"It doesn't weigh much more than a hunting knife," all eyes turned to Dune. 

"Riiiiight, creepy elf magic is still creepy good to know," The elf shot him another glare. "Well it is magic isn't it?" 

"I guess." 

"You guess?" the herald shrugged in response. "Mind if I get a closer look?" 

“I thought it was creepy?” 

“It is, but now I'm curious and last time I checked I wasn't a cat,” she shrugged once more as the boy King made his way over. Cassandra taking the opportunity to approach Leliana, frown firmly etched into her features.

“This is not funny,” is what the Seeker stated the second they were out of earshot of the King though judging by the twitch of the Herald's ear the elf was still very much listening.

“What isn't?”

“Don't play coy Leliana,” the Seeker sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Springing the King on us after the Herald just recovered and do not think that I haven't forgotten about the last stunt you pulled.”

“You are here so it looks like you found my clue.”

“How did you even get a patch sewn onto enemy armour?”

“I have my ways,” she shot the Seeker a sly smile only for the woman to sigh in response. A yelp and scratchy laughter drew the duos attention back to the other pair. The Herald was chuckling as tendrils of thorns whipped around her head like angry snakes and Alistair stuck a couple of most likely bleeding fingers into his mouth.

“Come we should return to our duties before those two realize that the other isn't so bad and we have to track them through town.”

“Agreed.”

 

\--- 

 

The walk back to the safe house was not long, the slow wait for the King to disperse and then Leliana to vanish on the other hand was. Cassandra was too angry to make conversation and the Herald was antsy. Pacing, tossing stones and giving her blade a few practice swings every now and then was more than enough to tip the Seeker off to the elf's current state. She was tempted to ask her companion what was wrong but chose to stew in her own dis-contempt instead. Both almost ran to the door when they felt that enough time had past and their deep breaths of fresh night air were almost synchronized when they burst forth. Neither, it seemed, was keen on sitting still for long periods of time. 

Cassandra was more than happy to remain silent during their journey back, though Dune had other plans. The Seeker was shoved forward and just caught herself before stumbling into a relatively murky looking pool of water nestled in the street. When she turned to shoot the elf a glare the other woman had already darted past her, a cocky grin plastered to her face. Cassandra stepped around the puddle and lunged forward only for Dune to sidestep her attack. 

"Oh come on Cass, I know yeah can do better than that!" Her companion jeered as the Seeker nearly growled and lunged once more only for her swipe to be dodged. "If yeah wanna catch me you're gonna have to try harder!" Came the taunting reply as Dune dodged again before turning and sprinting down a nearby alleyway. The Seeker followed at full tilt, metal soled boots sending loud stomping echoes bouncing off the walls. It took a second for Cassandra to regain her composure and remember that she knew Denerim's streets far better than the elf, she ducked into a side ally off the one that the Herald was running down, a few sharp turns later and she was able to calmly walk out of the gloom and cut the elf off. "Shit-" Was all Dune managed to say before the Seeker poked her in the chest. 

"What is wrong my friend? I thought you were better than that," came the taller woman's own tease before she herself turned and darted towards the safe house. She could hear her tail curse before the slight jingling of light armour sounded from behind her at a relatively fast pace. They dashed through alleys and jumped past long closed stalls switching who was in the lead here and there. Dune utilizing her superior speed and senses where Cassandra always had her knowledge of the city to keep herself a few steps ahead. She rounded a corner and dropped into a full sprint slamming Dune into a nearby wall, the woman only releasing a few scratching laughs as she turned to meet the Seeker's gaze. They stood there, hidden in the shadow of a building breathing in the other's breath while trying to catch their own, faces inches apart. Cassandra cleared her throat and stepped back while scratching her neck, both looked away neither able to meet the other's gaze. 

"Thank you." 

"No problem," Dune cleared her throat. "You seemed like you needed a distraction." 

"I did," the two walked side by side in comfortable silence as they finished the last five feet of their hike to the safe house. Cassandra opened the door and was immediately greeted by an overly cheery Scout Harding. 

"I'm glad to hear that the meeting went well, you should both get some sleep you're leaving in the morning for the Storm Coast." The dwarf than spun on her heal and made her way into the kitchen, Dune let out a deep displeased grown before stomping her way towards Blackwall and her gear. Cassandra sighed and headed to the makeshift barracks, she was going to try to get some reading in before they left. 

She paused when she opened the door, a small elven woman in patchwork armour, with choppy golden hair and a well-cared for bow was in the process of going through one of their bags. Her ears twitched before they perked up and she turned to meet the Seeker's gaze. The rogue was just able to get to her feet before Cassandra let out an enraged war cry and charged tackling the woman to the ground. 

"Tits ass!" The thief yelled as the Seeker grappled her, a symphony of footsteps sounded behind them and when she managed to wrestle the foul-mouthed woman into a headlock her companions were standing in the doorway. 

"Andraste's ass Seeker, how are you going to make friends that way?" Asked the dwarf as he shoved past the others to get a better view. 

"What?" 

"Seeker may I introduce you to the newest member of the Herald's inner circle Buttercup, Buttercup meet the ever infamous Seeker," Cassandra glanced down at the struggling elf who then proceeded to spit in her eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, been a while!
> 
> So yeah the every other week thing didn't pan out quite as planned, I got a new job and my daily skedule just kind of went to shit.
> 
> Anyways, the new plan is that for the next five Chapters I'll be posting every other week, either Saturday or Sunday and then, after that, I'll be taking a month-long break to work on some other stuff and correct my pre-existing Chapters.
> 
> I'm still here and I plan on posting more regularly for the next while. If you have any questions, advice or corrections please leave them in the comments down below. 
> 
> I will always reply and they are always appreciated,
> 
> IAAWIP
> 
> P.S (Language)
> 
> French
> 
> Non - No  
> Oui - Yes
> 
> Elven
> 
> Vallaslin - Traditional Dlaish Tattoos, Received When One Comes Of Age  
> Halla - A Small Horned Stage  
> Fen'Harel - The Dread Wolf  
> Aravel - Specialized Dalish Cart, Think Land Ship  
> Ha'lam or Fen'Harel - Ending/Beginning Of The Dread Wolf (Roughly)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is the first fic I've ever bothered trying to get out there. I do not have anyone doing corrections so like sorry about everything that's poorly anything.
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, thanks for taking the time to read my garbage. 
> 
> IAAWIP


End file.
